Gemotions

The diner buzzed around Amelia. Laughter, clinking cutlery, the rhythmic whoosh of the coffee machine - a symphony of sounds she used to find comforting. Now, it just grated. She sat alone in a booth, picking at her eggs. Her phone vibrated, a notification, but she ignored it. A letter had arrived that morning, sent by a person she had not thought of in ages.

It was an apology for a callous act. A teenage drama, a forgotten transgression. She pushed the plate of food away, appetite vanished. The words, so carefully chosen, felt clumsy and inadequate. She felt the world closing in, each breath a struggle. The bright lights of the diner seemed to dim, reflecting the emptiness she felt.