Gemotions

She threw the notice across the room, the flimsy paper fluttering like a dying bird. A wave of sickness rolled over her. Every single thing in the apartment, from the faded floral wallpaper to the chipped paint on the window frames, felt contaminated.

Her hand flew to her mouth as she sat on the worn couch and tried to contain the acid rising in her throat. The thought of packing, of sorting through the accumulated detritus of her life, filled her with a profound weariness.

The stale air in the apartment pressed in on her, heavy and oppressive. She reached for the remote, switching the television on to a loud, grating commercial.