Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the window felt harsh, unwelcome. Clara forced a smile at the breakfast table, a facade she could barely maintain. Michael, engrossed in his phone, barely acknowledged her presence. She'd seen the missed calls, the hushed tones in the hallway late at night. The knowledge weighed on her, a leaden weight that kept her anchored.

She pushed her eggs around her plate, the food tasting like ashes in her mouth. His excuses felt flimsy, transparent. She wondered if she should confront him, if she had the strength. The thought felt like climbing a mountain.

She found herself walking aimlessly through the park, the cheerful chatter of children grating on her nerves. Everything seemed too loud, too vibrant, too full of life. It felt like her world was shrinking, closing in. She sat on a bench, and let the tears come.