Gemotions

The envelope felt heavy, as if weighted with lead. Sarah ripped it open, her fingers clumsy and awkward. The words swam before her eyes. An eviction. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, but the words stayed put, refusing to disappear.

She sank into the threadbare armchair, the springs protesting her weight. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a trapped bird desperate to escape. She clutched the notice, crumpling the paper in her grasp.

"No, no, no," she muttered, the words a desperate plea into the quiet apartment. The silence amplified her fear, making it a tangible thing, a presence in the room.