Gemotions

The note on the door was written in shaky handwriting. “Please be quieter in the mornings.” The words seemed to swim before Eleanor's eyes. It was from the woman across the hall, a widow who had always seemed kind. Now, the note felt like a judgment.

She entered her apartment, the silence amplifying the thrumming in her chest. She found herself moving around the kitchen mechanically, making a cup of tea, the clink of the mug against the saucer sounding loud.

She sat on her sofa, staring at the tea, and the sunlight streaming in. The entire apartment felt too big, the light too bright.