Gemotions

The aroma of burnt coffee hung thick in the air. Amelia stared at the phone bill, the numbers blurring. A dozen calls, all to the same unknown number, late at night. Her stomach twisted, a cold knot tightening. She ran a hand through her hair, the simple action feeling foreign, clumsy. She didn't recognize the name listed on the bill. Her gaze flickered to the clock, the second hand sweeping across the face with a relentless tick, tick, tick, echoing in the sudden quiet of the morning. She felt a need to sit down, so she did.