Gemotions

The paper crackled in Eleanor’s trembling hands. An eviction notice. After five years of meticulously paying rent, of keeping the apartment spotless, of being, frankly, the perfect tenant. Her jaw tightened, the muscles aching. She crumpled the offending document into a ball and threw it against the wall. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, her voice tight with suppressed fury.

She paced the small living room, her movements jerky and erratic. The cheap, floral-print wallpaper seemed to mock her. Each step was accompanied by a frustrated exhale, a puff of air that rustled the blinds and shifted the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun. She fisted her hands, nails digging into her palms.

The landlord, Mr. Henderson, a man she’d always considered pleasant enough, had the audacity to claim she was in violation of the pet clause, a clause she'd carefully adhered to. Her chihuahua, Princess, a tiny, well-behaved creature, was practically invisible. She grabbed her phone, her fingers fumbling with the numbers as she prepared to unleash a verbal storm.