Gemotions

The shadows seemed to dance in the corners of her eyes, even in broad daylight. Maya found herself constantly looking over her shoulder, a prickle of unease following her like a shadow.

The creaks of the house, once familiar, now seemed amplified, each one a tiny accusation. She spent an hour in the kitchen, meticulously cleaning the countertops, her hands scrubbing until her knuckles were raw.

She realized, after a time, that the action had been driven by a frantic need to control something, anything. A need to find some semblance of order in all the sudden strangeness.