Gemotions

The coffee cup slipped from Clara’s grasp, shattering on the tile floor. She didn't even flinch. Her gaze remained fixed on the newspaper, the morning paper, now stained with lukewarm coffee and her spilled breakfast. The article. Her article. But under the name: Evelyn Finch.

A strange buzzing filled her ears, a high-pitched whine that threatened to drown out her own thoughts. She bent and picked up a shard of the shattered ceramic, turning it over in her trembling hand. It seemed unreal, like a poorly designed movie. The room spun. The familiar scent of her brewing coffee suddenly became a cloying, overwhelming odor.