Gemotions

The sharp, metallic tang of the notice filled Clara’s mouth. She could taste it, acrid and unwelcome. She held the flimsy sheet of paper as if it were a venomous snake, afraid to touch it. Her fingers were ice, the tips numb.

She wandered into the kitchen, the linoleum cold beneath her bare feet. The scent of stale coffee clung to the air, a familiar comfort suddenly tainted. She filled the kettle, the ritual a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of control. The whistling sound of the boiling water was a harsh, insistent interruption.

She choked back a sob as she stared into the steam rising from the cup. It was a stupid mistake. One little oversight. But it would cost her everything. The thought of losing her home was a cold knot in her stomach, making her want to double over.