Gemotions

The brightly printed notice, a cheerful yellow, was a cruel joke to Evelyn. She felt a stab of anxiety, a familiar discomfort. Condos meant money, and money was something she always lacked. She was the problem.

She slammed the door of her apartment with a force she didn't realize she possessed, the sound echoing in the small space. She always tried, she truly did. Her failed attempts at cooking, her stalled writing project, the countless times she’d promised to exercise – they all piled up like a mountain of shame.

She looked at her reflection in the dusty mirror. Her hair was a mess, her eyes red. She hated herself. She saw the lines around her eyes, a testament to her age and lack of success. Her shoulders slumped.

She pulled the notice from the door and ripped it into tiny pieces, then swept them into a neat pile. She was worthless. The paper shredding in her hands was a visual display of the things she always destroyed.