Gemotions

The notice taped to the elevator door fluttered as Sarah walked past. She paused, reading the bold print: "Conversion to Condominiums." A lump formed in her throat, quickly dissolving. She'd been expecting it, frankly. Rent in this neighborhood had skyrocketed. But the reality still prompted a flutter in her chest, a lightness that made her want to skip the remaining flight of stairs to her tiny apartment.

She unlocked the door, the familiar click a comforting sound. The sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. She inhaled deeply, the scent of old wood and her own carefully chosen lavender air freshener. It was hers, for now, and that was enough.

She spent the afternoon cleaning, not out of any particular necessity, but because she *could*. She scrubbed the already spotless kitchen floor, humming a tuneless melody, and arranged her meager collection of potted herbs on the windowsill, basking in the warmth. Everything felt bright, precious.