Gemotions

The sales office, opening soon in the lobby, represented a clear and present danger. Every morning, Beatrice stared at the empty space, imagining the glossy advertisements, the smirking real estate agents. They were coming to take everything she held dear.

She stopped talking to the building staff, sure they were secretly siding with the new owners. She avoided the elevators, preferring to climb the stairs, convinced the cameras watched her at every turn.

She started seeing patterns where there were none. Every overheard conversation, every delayed elevator, every flickering light bulb, was a carefully orchestrated maneuver. The walls seemed to close in, and soon, she knew, they would close her out too.