Gemotions

The paper crackled in Amelia’s trembling hand. She reread the words, the black ink blurring slightly at the edges. Her stomach felt like a knotted rope. Sunlight streamed through the dusty window, illuminating the swirling motes of dust, but it did little to lighten the gloom in her small apartment.

She slammed the notice down on the chipped kitchen table. Her jaw clenched, the muscles in her face working. Her breath hitched, shallow and quick. She imagined the landlord’s smug face, the way he always seemed to tower over her, even when he was shorter.

Amelia’s fingers drummed a rapid tattoo on the tabletop. Her gaze flickered to the clock, then back to the notice, then out the window. Time, she realized, was a rapidly closing cage.