Gemotions

The ceiling fan whirred overhead, circulating the stagnant air in her apartment. Sarah stared up at it, tracing the slow rotations with her eyes. They seemed to match the feeling she was having. She felt a restless energy, a need for something she couldn't quite name. She was tired of the same routines and familiar spaces. She’d been messaging a guy from a writing workshop online. He was witty, and she was always excited to hear what he had to say.

Then, there was his comment about a local cafe. "Great coffee, but the music is always the same stuff." The cafe in question? Two blocks from her place. An idea, half-formed, began to bloom in her mind.