Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, quivered slightly in Amelia’s trembling hand. Her breath hitched. "Condominium Conversion," it announced in bold letters. She scanned the lines, her vision blurring at the edges. A wave of heat washed over her, making her lightheaded. She gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles bone white, attempting to regain her equilibrium. The familiar scent of her brewing coffee suddenly felt nauseating.

She slammed the paper on the table, the sharp sound echoing in the sudden quiet of the morning. Her mind raced, picturing eviction notices, exorbitant prices, the familiar warmth of her home stripped away. Amelia paced the length of her tiny kitchen, her steps frantic and uncontrolled. Each stride felt like a race against an invisible clock.

She grabbed her phone, scrolling through the contacts until she found her best friend’s name. Her finger hovered over the call button, but the words wouldn’t come. She needed to speak, to share the information, but her throat felt as though it had constricted. Instead, she sat down heavily, staring blankly at the empty mug on the table.