Gemotions

The scent of ink and paper usually comforted Eleanor. Today, though, it felt like a cage. Her poems, private confessions, were now printed on cheap tea towels sold at a local craft fair. She'd given the manuscript to a friend. The betrayal hit her hard.

She sat at her desk, staring at the blank page in her notebook. Her pen felt heavy, her thoughts scattered. She couldn't focus, the words refusing to come. She felt a deep sense of shame, as if her vulnerabilities had been publicly exposed.

She wanted to hide, to disappear, to shield herself from the world. She pushed away from her desk and stood, and moved slowly toward the window. The world outside seemed cold and distant. A sense of helplessness washed over her, leaving her hollow.