Gemotions

The paper trembled in Amelia's grasp. It was like holding a live thing, wriggling with malice. Her vision blurred, and she blinked rapidly, trying to clear the print. The words swam, threatening to detach from the page and take on lives of their own. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, forcing herself to read the cold, official script. Eviction. Thirty days. The apartment, her haven, was being taken from her. A deep tremor ran through her, starting at her toes and making her fingers clench.

She sank onto the threadbare couch, the springs groaning in protest. The silence of the apartment was suddenly oppressive, the hum of the refrigerator a mocking reminder of the life she was about to lose. She felt a wave of nausea.

"No," she whispered, the sound barely audible. Her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. The world felt smaller, the walls closing in. She felt a strong urge to get up, but she couldn't.