Gemotions

Agnes stared at the glossy flyer, her brow furrowing. "Condominium Conversion," it announced in bold, confident letters. She’d been living in her rent-controlled apartment for fifteen years, contentedly ignoring the real estate market. Now this. Her hands trembled slightly as she set the flyer down on the chipped kitchen table, her knuckles whitening.

She reread the notice, each word seeming to warp and twist into an unfamiliar shape. The language was all business, full of deadlines and options. Her mind struggled to compute the implications. Sell? Buy? What even *were* her options?

She wandered to her living room window, pulling back the dusty curtains. The city hummed outside, indifferent. The old oak tree she loved, the one that shaded her window in summer, seemed to sway with a knowing air. A sharp, unfamiliar ache blossomed in her chest.