Gemotions

The notice, crisp white against the peeling wallpaper, seemed to mock her. A tremor ran through her, making the coffee cup in her hand rattle against the saucer. She should have paid the rent. Simple as that. Now, Mrs. Gable would know. The woman who always wore floral dresses and baked the best apple pie. The woman who probably knew everything about everyone in the building. A blush crept up her neck, a heat that felt like a betrayal.

Her fingers fumbled with the clasp of her purse. She’d planned to run into the grocery store for milk. Now, all she wanted to do was disappear. She sank into her threadbare armchair, the springs protesting under her weight. The thought of facing Mrs. Gable later… she pulled the curtains closed, plunging the room into a premature twilight.