Gemotions

"What do you mean, evicted?" Maya's voice cracked. She stared at the landlord, Mr. Henderson, a man whose smile usually felt like a friendly sunbeam, but now seemed cruelly bright. He was standing in her doorway, a crisp paper in his hand. Her usually steady hands were now busy fidgeting, picking at the loose threads on her worn cardigan.

The world seemed to tilt slightly as she absorbed the news. The familiar scent of her brewing coffee suddenly smelled sour. She pressed her lips together, her mind racing. What about her plants? Her books? Where would she even *go*?

She managed a weak smile, trying to appear composed. "Is there… is there anything I can do?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. She felt a strange tingling in her fingertips, as if she could barely feel her limbs.