Gemotions

The manuscript lay open on the kitchen table, the words blurring under a film of tears. A half-eaten plate of food sat abandoned beside it, the meal a monument to the loss of appetite. She pushed the plate away, the gesture abrupt. The air in the kitchen felt stale, filled with the ghosts of hopes and aspirations. She rested her forehead on the cool, unforgiving surface of the table, her body trembling with a suppressed sob. The silence of the house was a painful echo of her own internal turmoil.