Gemotions

The world seemed to have lost its color. Clara walked slowly, head down, the eviction notice clutched tightly in her hand. The bustling city streets, usually a source of energy, felt distant and muffled. Everything seemed blurred.

She barely registered the honking cars or the chattering crowds. Her gaze was fixed on the worn pavement beneath her feet. Her steps were slow, her feet dragging. She felt as though she was wading through molasses.

Reaching her favorite park bench, she finally slumped onto it, the paper still crumpled in her fist. The birds’ chirping, usually a joyful sound, merely added to her weary state. The very act of breathing was a chore.