Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, quivered slightly in Clara’s trembling hands. “Conversion to Condominiums.” The words seemed to jump off the page, mocking her. She crumpled it, feeling the sharp corners dig into her palm. Her apartment, her sanctuary, was about to be… gone? Tears pricked her eyes. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm the tremor in her chest.

She went to the window, the city a blur of motion. The familiar rhythm of the street below, usually a comfort, now felt like a relentless drumbeat against her raw nerves. The thought of strangers, of renovated hallways, of losing the chipped paint on her door… it was too much.

“No,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She wanted to scream, to shatter something. Instead, she retreated to the deepest corner of her sofa, wrapping herself in a threadbare blanket, seeking the illusion of safety.