Gemotions

The notice, a glossy flyer slipped under the door, landed with a thud that echoed in Miriam’s chest. “Condo Conversion!” it blared, the words practically shouting at her from the floral print. She crumpled it in her fist, the paper twisting until her knuckles were white.

A wave of heat washed over her, a prickling sensation that started at her neck and spread down her arms. She pictured the smug, perfectly manicured hands that had likely drafted this thing, and a surge of pure, unadulterated defiance filled her. She slammed the flyer onto the countertop.

Her gaze fixed on the overflowing recycling bin. The complex’s management had been nagging about sorting for months, and she'd ignored every single email and flyer. Now, she would let it overflow for a week. A full week.