Gemotions

The flyer, a stark white rectangle, felt like a slap in the face. It landed in her hands as she retrieved her mail, the bold typeface screaming the news. She crumpled it automatically, then smoothed it out again, the paper brittle against her fingers. A tremor ran through her, leaving her suddenly cold. She clutched the flyer, her knuckles white, as she rode the elevator. The familiar metal box felt less secure than before.

Her key scraped against the lock, a sound she’d heard thousands of times. But today, the sound echoed strangely in the hallway. Inside, the apartment felt subtly off-kilter, the angles of the furniture slightly askew. She wandered from room to room, touching surfaces, as if trying to ground herself. The chipped paint on the window frame seemed to mock her. A wave of nausea hit her as she stared out at the street. Where was she supposed to go?