Gemotions

The silence in the cramped coffee shop was deafening after the phone call. Clara felt the blood rush to her face. Her breathing quickened; her palms grew slick against the chipped ceramic of her mug. The barista's gaze lingered a moment, then shifted away. Shame, she thought, and something else, something she couldn't name. A tremor ran through her, starting at her toes. She wanted to yell, to scream, to shatter the delicate porcelain cup in her hands. Instead, she rose and walked straight out the door. The crisp morning air met her like a challenge.