Gemotions

The world tilted. Clara stared at the notice, the bold black letters a cruel joke. The apartment, her refuge, her sanctuary, was being ripped away. She pressed her back against the cold, damp wall, trying to ground herself.

A burning sensation began to spread through her chest, a fiery tendril snaking its way up to her throat. She struggled to swallow, to force down the rising tide of panic.

"It can't be true," she managed to croak, her voice barely a whisper. Her gaze darted around the room, as if searching for some hidden clue, some secret passage to escape this suffocating reality.

She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands until her scalp ached. Her breathing accelerated, each inhale a shallow, desperate gulp of air. The walls seemed to breathe with her, pressing in around her.