Gemotions

A wave of nausea washed over her. The professor’s words had cut through her like a blade. Emily sat rigidly at the table in her room, the essay she'd so painstakingly researched and written now a source of agony. The computer screen, usually a portal to knowledge and creativity, now felt like a judge’s gavel.

She hadn't eaten anything all day. Her body felt heavy, her limbs leaden. The silence of her room was suffocating. Every breath felt like a struggle. Her normally bright and bubbly personality had been replaced by a quiet, almost spectral, presence. She picked at a loose thread on her sweater, her fingers moving in a slow, almost mechanical, fashion.