Gemotions

The metallic tang of fear coated her tongue. The fence was a looming presence, a dark, unwavering line against the blue sky. Clara leaned against the cold brick of her house, the familiar texture doing little to comfort her.

The world seemed to spin slowly. Sounds were muffled, distorted. Her own thoughts were elusive, like fish darting just out of reach. She felt a profound emptiness, a yawning chasm inside her. She couldn’t remember what she had done that morning. Or the day before. Or even yesterday.

She focused on the fence. It was solid, real. But it offered no comfort, only an unsettling reminder of the boundaries that now seemed to hem her in.