Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, vibrated in Martha’s clenched fist. She ripped it from the lobby wall with a violence that startled a passing delivery driver. "Condo Conversion," the headline screamed, a personal affront.

Her jaw ached, locked in a rigid line. She jammed the paper into her overflowing tote bag, narrowly missing the edge of a half-eaten bagel. The elevator felt smaller, stuffier, as she ascended to her floor.

Inside her apartment, she slammed the door with a force that rattled the picture frames on the wall. The familiar comfort of her cluttered living room offered no solace. The news had left a bitter taste in her mouth, a burning sensation in her chest.