Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, but Maya barely noticed. The letter sat on her desk, untouched. She had been staring at it for hours. Her fingers twitched, itching to tear it apart. She felt a burning sensation in her stomach.

She found herself fidgeting, rearranging pens on her desk, straightening the stack of papers. She avoided eye contact with the letter. The air in the room felt thick, oppressive. She wanted to escape.

She remembered the words, the accusations, the coldness. She felt a knot in her throat, a physical manifestation of her unsettled state. She hated that she couldn't simply put it out of her mind.