Gemotions

The crisp white paper in Amelia's hand trembled, not from the autumn breeze sneaking under the door, but from something deeper, a tremor of the spirit. Her landlord's cold words, the eviction notice itself, were a stark contrast to the warmth she felt blooming in her chest.

She placed the notice on the worn kitchen table, then carefully laid a hand over it, as if trying to soothe it, as if to say, "It's alright." The late afternoon sun painted the room in honeyed hues.

The thought of moving, of leaving this space that had held so many happy memories, usually would fill her with dread. Instead, she hummed a little tune, the melody lilting and light, as she began to gather the stray coffee mugs that sat about. She looked at each one with fondness, imagining the hands that had held them.