Gemotions

The air in her apartment felt thick and oppressive, and Chloe kept flipping the pages of her book, not registering the words. She’d been waiting for a text message, a phone call, or, ideally, a card in the mail.

Finally, she could take it no longer. She grabbed her keys and rushed downstairs. The mailbox door squealed open, revealing a familiar collection of junk and bills. She ripped through the contents with a frustrated grunt.

Nothing. She crumpled the advertisements in her hand, feeling a knot of bitterness tighten in her stomach. Back upstairs, she paced her living room. What was she supposed to do?