Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, quivered slightly in Amelia’s trembling hand. The cheap paper, the impersonal font – it all felt like a deliberate insult. She crumpled it, the sound a sharp crack echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. Her jaw clenched, a muscle jumping in her cheek. She slammed the paper into her trash can.

She stared out the window, at the neatly manicured lawns of the other tenants. Their lives, she imagined, were all roses and sunshine. They probably had money, the kind of money that kept them safe from these indignities. Amelia spun away, grabbing her chipped mug, and tossed the dregs of cold coffee into the sink.

The knot in her stomach tightened with each passing second. She hated everything – the peeling paint, the drafty windows, the landlord’s smug indifference. Everything.