Gemotions

The sunlight streaming into Clara’s apartment felt harsh, almost accusatory. The rejection letter, crumpled in her hand, felt like a burning coal. She couldn’t bring herself to meet her own gaze in the mirror; her eyes felt wide and vulnerable.

She retreated to her bed, pulling the covers over her head, cocooning herself in the darkness. The silence amplified the frantic pulse throbbing in her ears. Each inhale was a struggle, as though the air itself had become heavy.

She imagined the faces of the people who knew she was waiting, their expectations and her own, crashing down on her. The walls seemed to be closing in.