Gemotions

The back of her neck prickled as she inspected the vacant space. The sun, a brutal interrogator, bore down. She ran her fingers through her hair, finding no comfort in the familiar gesture. She felt the urge to claw at something, anything.

She stared at the sticker, the bold red lettering mocking her. She hated the red. She hated the sign. She hated the feeling of being trapped. Each passing moment amplified the thrumming in her temples.

She needed to get this settled. She needed to move. She needed to stop *feeling* like this. The thought of all the phone calls, the waiting, the bureaucratic nonsense... it made her feel claustrophobic.