Gemotions

The boxes were already stacked in the lobby, a stark reminder of the looming move. She leaned against the chipped brick wall, watching the movers lug furniture out of Mrs. Henderson’s apartment. A wave of nausea washed over her.

She had been so busy chasing promotions, deadlines, and weekend getaways. Now, she was left with a feeling that was a dull, constant throb behind her eyes. Why hadn't she fostered the friendships, the simple connections, with her neighbors?

She'd scoffed at the communal barbecues, dismissing them as a waste of time. Now, the memory of those rejected invitations clawed at her conscience. She should have gone.