Gemotions

The crisp white paper crackled in Eleanor’s trembling hand. The landlord, Mr. Henderson, a man whose smile usually resembled a well-manicured lawn, had delivered it himself. His usual pleasantries were replaced with a stiff nod. She felt a heat creep up her neck, a prickling sensation that traveled to her ears, making them feel swollen. “Unacceptable,” she muttered under her breath, staring at the typed words. She slammed the notice onto the kitchen counter, the force rattling the porcelain mugs.

Her chest constricted. Years she’d lived here, watering the rose bushes, keeping the front porch spotless. She’d even helped Mr. Henderson retrieve his cat from the oak tree last summer. Now, this. She marched to the front door and, with a vicious twist, ripped the welcome mat to shreds. The little terracotta pot containing her prized lavender plant met the same fate.

She grabbed the phone, her fingers fumbling with the numbers. Her lawyer, Mr. Davies, would hear about this, and he would hear about it now.