Gemotions

She hunched over, the complaint slip clutched so tightly in her hand that the paper crinkled. The apartment hallway seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. Sunlight streamed in from the window and turned everything into a blinding glare. Her palms were slick with sweat. The words of the note, scrawled in an angry, unfamiliar hand, blurred before her eyes.

Her breath hitched. She had to do something. She needed to apologize. The neighbor’s door was just across the hall. Her legs, heavy and unresponsive, felt like lead. She pictured the angry face of the woman next door, the harsh words she knew were coming.

She started for the door, then stopped, her hand frozen mid-air. She couldn't do it.