Gemotions

The news landed like a lead weight in her stomach. Across the country? No, not happening. She'd told Maya a thousand times they were a package deal. "It's just for a better job," Maya had said, her voice laced with that infuriating optimism. Well, fine. She’d spend the next week at Maya's, helping her pack, pretending it was exciting, even cheerful. And then, at the airport, she would simply refuse to say goodbye. She'd sit there, on the cold tile, a permanent fixture, an unspoken accusation.

Her jaw clenched, and she immediately began pacing her small apartment. The chipped paint on the walls seemed to mock her. She grabbed her favorite mug, the one Maya had gotten her, and slammed it down on the counter. The ceramic shuddered. The movers could carry all the boxes they wanted, but they couldn't take her.

She had an urge to rip her clothes off, and stand in the middle of the street. She didn't. She needed to make calls. She'd call everyone. She'd remind them of her and Maya's plans. They *needed* to know. They couldn't let this happen.