Gemotions

The letter, delivered with cold indifference by the mail carrier, felt like a physical blow. She stood motionless in the hallway, the eviction notice clutched in her hand, her knuckles bone-white. The blood seemed to drain from her face.

Her apartment suddenly felt alien. The familiar scent of her own cooking, usually comforting, now seemed to mock her. The walls seemed to be closing in, the air thick and heavy.

She slowly began to walk through her home, touching objects, the worn sofa, the chipped coffee table, the books she had collected over the years. Her lips were pressed in a thin, rigid line. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She would not cry. Not yet.