Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, clung to the chipped paint of the hallway bulletin board. "Conversion to Condominiums," it declared in bold, black letters. Amelia sighed, the sound barely a whisper that evaporated in the stale air. Another thing to deal with. Another… something. She trudged back to her apartment, the heavy, echoing footfalls a counterpoint to the quiet thrumming in her ears.

The half-eaten container of takeout loomed on her coffee table, a testament to the fact she’d done little more than stare at the television screen since waking up. Sunlight, filtered through the dusty blinds, cast long, languid shadows. She poked at the cold noodles with a fork, the plastic handle feeling strangely heavy in her hand.

“Well,” she murmured to the empty room, her voice sounding faraway, like it belonged to someone else. “Guess I should start thinking about… something.” The thought trailed off, unformed, into the vast, indifferent silence.