Gemotions

The cheerful chime of the mail slot was a daily occurrence, but today it brought a jolt. Inés crumpled the notice in her fist, her normally expressive face frozen. She stared blankly at the wall, as if trying to memorize the texture of the plaster. Her body felt like it was filled with lead.

Her carefully constructed world, her life in this tiny flat, seemed to crumble around her. She walked, with a deliberate pace, to the window and stared at the street. Each car, each pedestrian, seemed foreign. They were going somewhere, they had places to be, and she did not.

Inés started to pick at a hangnail. Her usually steady hands were busy with small, frantic movements. Everything was off-kilter, out of sync.