Gemotions

The paper crackled in Amelia’s hand, a stark white rectangle against the cluttered mess of her coffee table. Her breath hitched. A tremor started low in her belly, a heat spreading outward. She smoothed the notice, the action oddly sensual. Her fingers lingered on the crisp edges.

A flush crept up her neck, prickling her skin. This stupid eviction. The landlord, a man whose smile always felt slightly predatory, had finally gone through with it. Good. It was almost... a relief.

She bit her lip, a tiny moan escaping. She needed to pack. The thought, normally daunting, sparked a strange thrill. What should she take first? The worn leather journal, the one she loved so much, or the silk scarf that draped over her chair. Or maybe… maybe she wouldn't pack anything yet. She reached for the half-empty bottle of wine on the table.