Gemotions

The world felt muted. Sarah stared at the plate of scrambled eggs, the yellow a sickly hue. She couldn't remember making them, couldn't remember anything before the insistent, bone-rattling thudding that had begun just moments ago. It was coming from next door.

She pushed back from the table, her chair scraping against the floor. Every movement felt like wading through molasses. The air felt heavy, like a physical weight pressing down on her shoulders. She wanted to scream.

She drifted through her house, touching objects, trying to anchor herself. The photographs on the wall. The worn rug in the living room. None of it felt real, none of it felt like her life. She needed to understand what was happening, what this feeling was, but the knowledge eluded her. She felt untethered, floating.