Gemotions

The smell of fresh-cut wood, usually a pleasant aroma, now choked her. It followed her in the house, a phantom odor she couldn't escape. Her appetite had vanished. She picked at her toast, pushing it around the plate.

She kept checking the time, each tick of the clock amplifying her unease. The shadows outside her window seemed to lengthen and deepen, casting an ominous aura over everything. She glanced at the phone, wondering if she should call someone, anyone, to simply… confirm things would be okay.

She abruptly stood, a sudden energy coursing through her. She felt compelled to do something. Anything.