Gemotions

"Condos," Sarah choked, the word a bitter taste in her mouth. She'd been on the phone with her sister when she'd found the flyer. Now, the phone lay discarded on the kitchen counter, the cheerful voice on the other end a forgotten echo.

Her fingers traced the outline of her favorite coffee mug, the chipped ceramic feeling strangely rough and inadequate. The sun, streaming through the window, seemed to mock her with its relentless cheerfulness.

She began to pace, her steps erratic and uneven, her arms crossed tight across her chest. Every creak of the aging floorboards seemed to amplify the internal pressure building inside her.

"No," she finally whispered, the word a shaky plea, a desperate denial of the reality staring her in the face. She felt an overwhelming impulse to smash something, to scream until her voice gave out.