Gemotions

The paper crackled in Amelia's shaking hands. Her eyes blurred as she scanned the curt phrases, the cold, impersonal legal language. It wasn't the notice itself that made her stomach clench; it was the photo stuck to the fridge. It showed her, laughing, sun-kissed, holding a dripping ice cream cone outside this very building, just months ago. A wave of nausea hit her, and she rested her head against the cold enamel.

Outside, the city hummed, oblivious. She'd been a fool. The late nights, the impulsive purchases, the careless disregard for the bills… all of it came crashing down now. She'd thought she was invincible. Now she just felt empty.

Amelia’s legs felt like lead. She sank into the worn armchair, the springs protesting her weight. The scent of stale popcorn and cheap incense clung to the air, a testament to her messy life. She should have cleaned up. She should have paid the rent. She should have… everything.