Gemotions

Her stomach clenched as she read the letter. The neat, official font seemed to mock her. The landlord’s cold legal language sent icy fingers down her spine. Each paragraph felt like a tightening noose.

She set the letter down on the kitchen table, the surface of which was strewn with unpaid bills. Her hands were ice cold, even though the apartment was stifling. She rose and began pacing the small living room, back and forth, back and forth, each step a frantic attempt to outrun the looming dread.

“This can’t be happening,” she muttered, her voice a thin, reedy whisper. She felt the urge to scream, to lash out, but she kept the turmoil trapped inside.

She sat heavily on the floor, head in her hands. The hardwood felt cold and unforgiving beneath her cheek.