Gemotions

The crisp white paper in Amelia's hands trembled as she read the words again. Eviction. Her fingers brushed against the worn wooden banister of the staircase, the same banister she'd painstakingly sanded and varnished a decade ago. It had been her first real project in the apartment, a symbol of permanence.

A wave of warmth, like the last embers of a dying fire, washed over her as she walked to the window. The view, a sprawling cityscape punctuated by the familiar silhouette of the old oak tree in the courtyard, was a comfort. She remembered the autumn afternoons spent watching the leaves change, the way the sunlight dappled through the branches, painting patterns on her living room floor.

She reached for the chipped teacup on the windowsill, her fingers tracing the faded floral design. It was a purchase from a flea market, a bargain that spoke of a different time in her life. Taking a sip of the now cold tea, Amelia felt a tightness in her chest.