Gemotions

She slammed the phone down, the plastic receiver rattling against the wall. “Condos, of course,” she muttered, her voice tight. The landlord’s upbeat tone, the promise of “amenities,” had felt like a personal insult.

A wave of heat surged through her. She paced her small living room, the worn rug under her feet doing little to ground her. Sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, highlighting the chaos of unwashed dishes and scattered paperwork.

She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands, a frustrated habit. The walls seemed to be closing in, each familiar object a reminder of the life she couldn't escape. The thought of dealing with realtors, open houses, and the constant pressure was more than she could bear.