Gemotions

The world seemed to have tilted on its axis. Emily sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak a mockery of the turmoil inside her. The diary. Her secrets, her fantasies, her youthful indiscretions, broadcast for the masses. She felt a chill despite the warmth of the summer afternoon.

She picked at the peeling paint of the swing, her fingers raw and restless. Every passing car seemed to be carrying a judgment, every rustle of leaves a whispered condemnation. She felt utterly depleted, emptied of all joy. The sun felt harsh on her skin, the air thick with an oppressive silence.