Gemotions

“Again?” The word escaped Anya's lips, a whisper lost in the echoing emptiness of her apartment. She slumped against the peeling wallpaper, the floral pattern blurring before her tired eyes. Her chest felt constricted, making each breath a conscious act. She dragged a hand through her tangled hair, noticing the crumbs from dinner still clinging to her fingers. The eviction notice, folded neatly on the table, seemed to mock her with its crisp lines and official typeface. She closed her eyes, the image of the landlord’s smug face burned into her memory.