Gemotions

The air in the apartment felt stale. Anya went to the window and threw it open, hoping for a breath of fresh air. The city noises, usually comforting, now grated on her.

Her hands were balled into fists. She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. She had worked her way up to this apartment. It represented everything she’d striven for.

She thought of the inevitable auction, the bidding wars. The idea of losing everything, of starting over, seemed impossible. She rested her forehead against the cool glass, feeling utterly depleted.