Gemotions

"This can't be happening," whispered Fiona, her voice thin. She reread the notice, each word striking her like a physical blow. Her palms were clammy, her breath shallow.

She paced her small living room, the worn rug under her feet suddenly feeling unfamiliar and hostile. The familiar sounds of city life outside her window now seemed amplified, taunting her.

She went to her desk, intending to look at the paperwork but found that she couldn't focus. Her thoughts flitted from possibility to possibility, all of them unpleasant.