Gemotions

The note slid under the door, a crisp, white rectangle that seemed to scream its message. She clutched it, her knuckles white, reading the terse, angry words over and over. A wave of cold washed over her, leaving her skin prickling.

She retreated into the kitchen, a space usually filled with the comforting smells of cooking. Tonight, it felt sterile, empty. She stared at the knife block, the sharp gleam of the steel reflecting the flickering light.

Her breath caught in her throat, a trapped sob. She needed to leave, to escape the suffocating presence that was settling over the apartment like a shroud. She wanted to be far, far away.