Gemotions

The morning sun punched through the blinds, a hot fist of light that slammed into Amelia’s face. She fumbled for her glasses, knocking them off the nightstand. The world swam into focus, but the edges still blurred. She knew something was off, a low-level hum of unease vibrating in her chest.

She went to the kitchen, seeking coffee, needing the familiar ritual to ground her. But the driveway was empty. Her mouth fell open. Had she even driven anywhere? Had she walked out of the house at all? She squinted, searching for a clue, a marker, anything.

Her keys were on the counter, where she always left them. The air felt thick, like a forgotten memory. She glanced at the calendar; Tuesday. Was it? The world tilted slightly, as if she were viewing it from a funhouse mirror.