Gemotions

The coffee shop’s familiar aroma usually comforted her. Today, it was cloying, nauseating. The woman across from her – the woman with *it* – smiled, oblivious. A permanent version of her abstract portrait bloomed across her forearm. A cold sweat slicked down Anya’s back. She felt as though she'd woken up in the wrong world. Everything seemed slightly off-kilter, the sounds of the cafe too loud, the sunlight too bright. She gripped her mug, knuckles white, unsure of how to proceed, unsure of anything.