Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, stared up at Eleanor from the communal mail slot. "Conversion to Condominiums." She crumpled the paper in her fist, the brittle sound echoing in the hallway. Her fingers tightened, knuckles whitening.

She dragged herself up the stairs, each step a monumental effort. The weight of the world seemed to settle on her shoulders. Her apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt like a temporary holding cell.

Inside, she kicked off her shoes, letting them fall where they may. The familiar scent of old books and brewing coffee usually offered comfort, but today it just amplified the hollowness. She stared at the blank TV screen.