Gemotions

The world seemed to spin slightly as Maya walked through the bustling market, each step an exercise in willpower. The vibrant colors of the produce, usually a feast for her eyes, were muted, a blurry kaleidoscope. She leaned against a fruit stall, the rough wood digging into her back. Her shoulders were hunched, and her legs felt like they were filled with cement.

A man, selecting plums nearby, noticed her. He paused, his gaze filled with concern. “You alright, miss?”

She managed a weak nod. “Just… not feeling myself.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered, picking up his groceries. “Been like this for weeks. Like someone drained the energy right out of me.” He sighed, a weary sound.