Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, was plastered on the lobby door. *Condo Conversion*. Brenda’s jaw clenched. She swiped her key card with more force than necessary, the plastic scraping against the reader. Now she had to move. Again. This felt like the fifth time in as many years.

A headache began to throb behind her eyes. She pictured the chaos: packing boxes, frantic apartment hunting, security deposits. The whole tedious cycle. Her fingers drummed a frustrated rhythm against her thigh as she walked towards the elevator.

The elevator music, a saccharine rendition of a pop song, seemed designed to test her patience. The doors finally opened on her floor, and she marched down the hallway, her shoulders stiff. She wanted to scream.