Gemotions

The coffee shop, once a haven, now felt like a cage. Amelia, hunched over the exposed brick table, ran a hand through her hair, tangling it further. The article was spread out before her, a stark collection of side-by-side text excerpts. Her hand hovered over the steaming mug, not wanting to touch it.

Her appetite was gone. She felt a knot in her stomach, the kind that came before a panic attack. She picked at the foam on her latte, creating a small, swirling vortex of nothing. The laughter of the other patrons grated on her nerves. Every cheerful voice felt like a taunt.

She had built an entire portion of her identity around the author, around the shared connection through the words. Now, she felt a profound sense of violation, like someone had broken into her home and defiled it. The world suddenly felt tainted.