Gemotions

The door clicked shut, the sound echoing in Clara’s ears like a gunshot. She stood frozen, her hand still on the doorknob of her old friend, David’s, apartment. He'd opened the door with a polite smile, a gesture that quickly faded into puzzlement when she introduced herself.

“I’m sorry,” he’d said, his voice hesitant. “I don’t… I don’t remember a Clara.”

Her chest constricted. She wanted to smash something. The meticulously clean hallway felt sterile, unforgiving. Her nails dug into her palms.

She turned and marched down the stairs, each footfall a heavy thud. The building, once filled with the warmth of shared secrets and childish laughter, now felt cold and alien. The air outside was thick and heavy, and she pushed through the front door, feeling the weight of the rejection on her shoulders.