Gemotions

The notice taped to the elevator door fluttered, a paper butterfly of doom. Amelia ripped it down, then crumpled it into a ball, shoving it deep inside her overflowing purse. She glanced over her shoulder, convinced someone had witnessed her crime against the building's management. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

She hurried down the hallway, her key already fumbling in the lock. The click of the door latch felt loud, a gunshot in the silent corridor. Inside, she slammed the door shut, then locked, bolted, and chained it, each action a frantic prayer for security.

The afternoon light filtered through the blinds, casting long, unsettling shadows. Every creak of the floorboards, every whisper of the wind outside, sent a jolt of alarm through her. She felt eyes on her, invisible, judging.