Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, was plastered right at eye level on her door. It detailed the upcoming conversion. She ripped it from the frame, her knuckles white, and crumpled it in her fist.

She slammed the trash can open in her kitchen and flung the paper inside. The clatter echoed in the sudden quiet of her apartment.

The audacity! They were pushing her out, weren’t they? After five years, after she'd meticulously painted the walls and planted the herbs on her balcony. She felt a heat rising in her chest, a tightening.

She marched to the window, the movement jerky. The city, usually a source of comfort, suddenly felt hostile, glittering with the promise of wealth she didn't possess.