Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, clung to the front door of her apartment. It announced the building's impending conversion to condos. Sarah felt a chill despite the late afternoon sun spilling through the living room window. She crumpled the flyer in her fist, the paper crackling like a dry leaf.

Her rent, manageable for years, was about to skyrocket. Sarah slumped onto the worn velvet couch, the springs groaning in protest. She had no savings, her freelance work had been drying up, and now this. A knot formed in her stomach, a familiar unwelcome guest.

She grabbed her phone, scrolling through job postings, her thumb flying across the screen. The flickering light of the phone illuminated the lines etched around her eyes, a testament to sleepless nights. The sheer weight of it, the endless striving, felt crushing. She wanted to scream.