Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, clung to the chipped paint of the hallway bulletin board. Sarah stared at it, the small hairs on her arms prickling. Condominium conversion. Her stomach immediately twisted, a familiar ache she usually quelled with a second helping of pasta. She hadn't cooked dinner for herself in… well, a while. Her landlord, Mr. Henderson, always fixed things. He’d even swapped out the lightbulb in the hallway last week. Now, that would be *her* job.

Panic seized her. She clutched the strap of her oversized bag, feeling the weight of it, the comforting heft of its contents. Would she have to… move? Find a new Mr. Henderson? The thought choked her, a physical pressure in her throat. She pictured the chaos of packing, the unfamiliar faces of movers, the sudden, jarring silence of a new place.

She hurried back to her apartment, fumbling with the keys, her fingers clumsy and unsure. The familiar scent of cinnamon from the bakery downstairs usually soothed her. Tonight, it felt cloying, suffocating. She locked the door, leaned against it, and let out a shaky breath.