Gemotions

The gentle clinking of ice in her glass of lemonade was the only sound breaking the silence of the afternoon. Maya, her feet propped up on the balcony railing, watched the leaves of the oak tree sway in the breeze. She’d spent the morning meticulously organizing her collection of vintage postcards, arranging them by color and theme.

She took a long, slow sip, the tartness of the lemonade invigorating her senses. Her eyes followed the flight of a bird as it dipped and soared across the sky. She felt her chest rise and fall steadily.

She found the notice taped to the elevator door. Her eyes drifted over the details, noting the words "Condominium Declaration." She sighed, the air hissing through her teeth. She turned, walking back to her postcards, her shoulders resuming their usual ease.