Gemotions

“But how…?” Maya trailed off, the words catching in her throat. The cafe, her sanctuary, was closing. "The Daily Grind," the sign said, "Thank You for Your Patronage." She felt a pressure in her chest, making it hard to breathe. The cafe was her solace. She leaned against the cool glass of the window, as if she could somehow prevent the inevitable. Her hand went to her head and she rubbed her temples. The chatter of the other patrons seemed distant, muffled. She needed to sit down, but she didn't trust her legs.