Gemotions

The paper crackled in Eleanor's grip, a sound that grated on her nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. She balled it up, squeezing until her knuckles turned white. It was ridiculous. Utterly, completely ridiculous!

Her jaw clenched, muscles working furiously. She stalked to the window, staring out at the identical brownstone across the street. The smug, ivy-covered facade seemed to leer at her. She slammed her fist against the windowsill, the impact sending a jolt of pain up her arm.

“They can’t just *do* this!” she hissed, the words barely audible. She spun away from the window, pacing the confines of her small apartment, a whirlwind of frustrated energy.