Gemotions

The bright sunlight that poured through the window felt intrusive. Maya barely registered the world outside, focusing solely on the harsh words on the paper. The words were a physical blow. She'd known it was coming.

She walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge and then slamming it shut, the action a manifestation of her frustration. She needed something to ground her. She needed to focus on the next step.

She sat at the table, her hands flat on the surface. She began to make a list, each item a small victory against the growing sense of dread.