Gemotions

She slammed the phone down, the receiver practically bouncing off the hook. Her agent, the insufferable David, had called again. “Market value,” he’d chirped, “unprecedented opportunity.” He hadn't asked if *she* even wanted to sell.

Her apartment, a shoebox really, was the only place that felt like home. She knew every creak in the floorboards, every draft that snaked under the windows. Now, those imperfections were just liabilities.

She stood at the window, staring at the street below. A sleek, modern building was going up across the way. Another sign of the times. The rising cost of everything. She felt a burning sensation in her chest, a familiar ache she'd come to associate with disappointment.