Gemotions

The world felt muted to Maya. Colors seemed less vibrant, sounds less distinct. The invitation to her mother's retirement celebration had been on the fridge for a week, a persistent reminder of a life she couldn't seem to connect with. She'd been avoiding her phone calls, her emails.

The speech she needed to write was a mountain she couldn't climb. She tried, starting and restarting, but the words felt like ashes in her mouth. She found herself staring out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass, a fitting reflection of her inner state.

At the party, she clutched her drink, her gaze fixed on the floor. Her mother, radiant in her joy, seemed a million miles away. When her turn came, her voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a rush, devoid of emotion. She barely remembered what she said.