Gemotions

The antique grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to boom with each passing minute. Sarah was in the dining room, staring at the embroidered sampler her aunt wanted to sell. The stitched letters shimmered with a certain beauty. A headache was starting, the dull throb behind her eyes growing with each breath she took.

She picked up the delicate, framed work, and the fabric felt strange against her fingertips. She lowered it, unable to look. Her stomach felt empty, but not in the way of hunger. It was more as if it was hollow, lacking all substance.

She went to the window, watching the leaves of the oak tree dance outside. The sound of the wind, rustling through the branches, seemed to intensify the building pressure in her chest.