Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, clung to the chipped paint of the hallway bulletin board. Sarah squinted at it, the words blurring slightly as her eyes struggled to focus. It was one of those days where even the act of reading seemed too taxing. “Condominium conversion,” it announced. She sighed, the sound a drawn-out expulsion of air as she imagined the paperwork, the meetings, the inevitable upheaval. Her current routine, a comfortable rut of takeout and streaming services, felt suddenly precarious.

The thought of moving, of packing, of *dealing* with anything more than the remote control, sent a ripple of exhaustion through her. She dragged herself back into her apartment, the scent of yesterday’s reheated pizza clinging to the air. The couch beckoned. It was going to be a long afternoon.