Gemotions

The stairs felt like a mountain. Clara dragged herself down, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, a smell she usually loved. The mailbox stood open, a colorful invitation nestled inside – a birthday card. Another year. Another reminder.

She brought it inside, her movements slow and deliberate. The card lay unopened on the kitchen table, a splash of color against the otherwise bland surroundings. Her appetite was gone. She felt a profound weariness, the kind that settles deep in the bones.

She sat, her gaze drifting toward the window. The world outside seemed just as… dull. She took a deep breath. She didn't want to do anything. She didn't want to be anywhere.