Gemotions

The ringing phone jolted Amelia. It was Mrs. Peterson, gushing about the new Italian marble in the neighbor's foyer. Amelia's grip tightened on the phone until her knuckles were white.

A strange dizziness washed over her. She knew the Petersons were always the ones with the latest gossip. She sank back against the kitchen counter, the granite’s cool surface offering no relief. The image of the marble, the perceived luxuriousness, was unwelcome.

“Oh, my heavens,” she breathed, her voice a mere whisper. She felt a growing sense of vulnerability, an uncomfortable feeling that had been building since she heard the news.