Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, usually a source of comfort, only served to highlight the emptiness in Eleanor’s stomach. She watched, from her window, as the movers carefully placed antique furniture into Mr. Abernathy’s newly renovated house. Sunlight glinted off the polished wood.

Eleanor thought about the leaky faucet in her own kitchen, a problem she couldn’t afford to fix. She felt a tightening in her chest, a knot of frustration that threatened to suffocate her. The silence in her apartment was now deafening, and each tick of the clock felt like a judgment on her circumstances.