Gemotions

The crisp white paper of the eviction notice trembled in Amelia’s hand, mirroring the tremor in her own limbs. It was the rent, of course. She’d known it was coming. The pasta-and-sauce dinners were becoming too frequent, the tap water a little too flavourful. Now, the apartment, her only refuge, was to be taken away. She dropped the letter onto the already cluttered kitchen table, the sound a dull thud in the silence. The silence that had become her companion, a familiar weight she carried from room to room.

She stared out the window, at the street below. Each passing car, each laughing group of teenagers, was a fleeting glimpse of a world she felt detached from. The thought settled on her: perhaps she should try to make some friends. Perhaps she should just go out to that pub down the street. Maybe she would order a beer.

Then the image of the pub, filled with chattering voices, slammed up against her. She quickly turned away, busying herself with the dusting of a shelf. Every object a silent witness to a life lived in seclusion.