Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, lay on the chipped kitchen table. Rain hammered against the windowpane, blurring the familiar view of the scraggly sycamore in the yard. Sarah traced the edge of the paper with a trembling finger, the numbers, the dates, the cold, impersonal language. A deep ache settled in her chest, a weight she couldn’t seem to shrug off.

She wandered through the apartment, each room a repository of memories, now tinged with the bitterness of loss. The worn armchair, where she’d spent countless evenings lost in the glow of the television. The chipped mug on the windowsill, holding a forgotten tea bag. Everything felt imbued with a sudden fragility.

Later, she found herself staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes, usually bright with mischief, were dull and shadowed. She splashed cold water on her face, but it did little to quell the hollow feeling that had taken root within. It was going to be a long, drawn-out goodbye.