Gemotions

The paper crackled under Sarah's unsteady hand. The notice. Again. The landlord’s cold, impersonal words seemed to echo the hollowness inside her. She felt like a deflated balloon, all the air sucked out of her.

She sat on the edge of the bed, the springs groaning in protest. The ceiling fan, usually a source of comfort, spun uselessly overhead. She'd stopped caring about the dust motes dancing in the weak sunlight, about the laundry piling up on the chair.

Her stomach churned, a vague unease she couldn't quite pinpoint. The eviction felt like a confirmation of a suspicion, that she had no real place, no anchor. She pulled her knees up to her chest, the fabric of her worn-out jeans feeling rough against her skin.