Gemotions

The world seemed to shrink around Jennifer. Her apartment, once a haven, had become a prison. She spent most of her time curled on the couch, the television a blurred distraction. The sun, even in its golden hour, held no appeal.

She noticed a sleek, silver convertible parked in Mr. Harrison’s driveway. Mr. Harrison, who always wore the same, slightly-stained sweater, had the car keys in his hand. Jennifer watched him drive away, a picture of carefree abandon.

A wave of emptiness washed over her, leaving her feeling brittle and hollow. She closed her eyes.