Gemotions

The world felt distorted. The cheerful sunlight pouring through the window seemed mocking. The conversion notice, a stark black and white intrusion, sat on her kitchen table, an unwelcome guest. She wanted to hurl it across the room.

She paced. Her usually tidy apartment felt like a prison. The familiar comforts, the worn armchair, the overflowing bookshelves, now felt like precarious possessions. The thought of losing them – of having to move – ignited a spark of resentment within her.

She picked up a pen and began scratching at the table with furious, unthinking strokes. The wood splintered under her assault, the destruction a small, meaningless act of defiance.