Gemotions

The newspaper lay open on the kitchen counter, the headline screaming its unwelcome truth. Eleanor felt a strange lightness in her head, as if she were floating. Her hand instinctively went to her chest, tracing the outline of her favorite necklace, a tiny silver spoon she’d gotten from the restaurant. The image of the red-checkered tablecloths, the clatter of silverware, the murmur of happy diners, filled her vision.

She sank into a chair, the legs scraping across the tile floor. A wave of dizziness washed over her. It was as if her entire history, the very fabric of her existence, was suddenly threatened.

She closed her eyes, trying to force herself to breathe. The air felt thick, difficult to navigate.