Gemotions

The tiny, handwritten note on the notice board felt like a personal affront. It announced the upcoming mandatory meeting about the condo conversion. She crumpled the flyer, her knuckles white. Another meeting. Another series of forced pleasantries with the landlord, who was probably rubbing his hands in anticipation.

She'd known the neighborhood would change. She'd seen it coming. The artisanal coffee shops, the boutiques. But it didn't lessen the ache in her chest.

She went back inside and poured a glass of wine, her hand trembling slightly. She’d skip the meeting. Let them talk. She'd find a way to make them feel her disapproval.