Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, stared back at Miriam from the chipped paint of her door. "Condominium Conversion." She'd known the whispers had been circulating for months, but seeing it in bold, official print, a knot tightened in her stomach. She quickly folded the paper and shoved it into her overflowing recycling bin, hoping to delay the inevitable.

Later, she found herself avoiding Mrs. Rodriguez in the elevator. The old woman, usually so chatty, now seemed defeated, her shoulders slumped. Miriam hurried out, muttering a hurried, almost inaudible, "Good morning." Mrs. Rodriguez simply nodded, her eyes clouded over.

At work, the simplest tasks felt impossible. The emails piled up, unanswered. She found herself staring out the window, the sun glinting off the newly renovated condos across the street, and a fresh wave of unease washed over her.