Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, quivered in Amelia’s trembling hand. It announced the conversion, the shift to condo ownership. Her breath hitched. She reread the words, the impersonal corporate language somehow more menacing than a shouted threat. The rent was reasonable. More than reasonable, in fact. Finding anything comparable, in this city, felt like an impossible task.

Her fingers, usually deft at crafting intricate origami, now fumbled with the paper. A wave of nausea rolled through her. She felt the urge to flee, to somehow escape the looming change. Her apartment, once a haven, suddenly felt like a cage.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered, the sound swallowed by the silent hallway. She knew she had to leave. She didn't have the funds to buy. The thought of starting over, of the hunt, the viewings, the negotiations… it was too much.