Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle, stared back at Martha from her kitchen table. "Conversion to Condominiums," it declared in bold, unfriendly font. She crumpled the paper in her fist, the brittle sound echoing in the sudden quiet of her apartment. She’d been planning to repaint the living room next month, finally getting around to that cheerful daffodil yellow she'd always wanted. Now, the thought of any investment in the space felt like a betrayal.

Her shoulders slumped as she stared out the window. The city hummed with its usual indifferent energy, oblivious to the shift about to occur in her life. The familiar rhythm of the street, the honking taxis, the distant sirens—all these noises now grated on her nerves. She felt a knot forming in her stomach, a tight, persistent pressure.

She kicked at a stray dust bunny under the table, sending it skittering across the floor. This was her sanctuary, her refuge from the chaos of the world, and now it was going to be… different. She wanted to scream.