Gemotions

The notice, a cheap piece of paper shoved under her door, crinkled in Amelia’s hand. She scanned the bold, optimistic font, her lips twisting. "Exciting opportunities!" she read aloud, the words dripping with honeyed condescension. She tossed the paper onto the already cluttered entryway table, where it landed precariously atop a stack of overdue library books.

She stomped across the worn, mismatched tiles of her kitchen floor, the same ones she’d been glaring at for five years. The kettle whistled, a shrill, unwelcome sound that grated on her nerves. As she poured boiling water over her tea bag, she thought of the "luxury" finishes the notice promised. Marble countertops, stainless steel appliances… like the building, and her life, needed a makeover.

The tea, once brewed, tasted bitter, much like her mood. She slammed the mug onto the counter, the force causing a small tremor that rattled the chipped paint of the cabinets. She hated change. She hated the saccharine promises of "improvement."