Gemotions

The silence of the house pressed down on Emily, a heavy blanket of quiet that amplified the emptiness she felt. The tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hallway sounded like a condemnation of her inaction. She felt a sluggishness in her limbs, a mental fog that prevented any meaningful engagement with the world. She wanted to do something.

She was tired of the house.

She grabbed her coat and walked to the library, to read. She sat down, and her hand brushed against the book. Her name. Her photograph. A biography. Written without her approval. She felt a prickle of something. Something negative.