Gemotions

She’d been humming, gathering her things for the farmer’s market. Then, the email. The subject line, bold and official, screamed its message. She scrolled through it, her breath hitching with each line.

Her coffee cup slipped from her grasp, the ceramic shattering on the linoleum. She just stood there, watching the brown liquid spread, the shards glinting in the morning light. Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged.

The market! She was supposed to be at the market, arranging her organic produce. The image of the farmer’s market became distant in her mind, as if it were on a different planet. All she could focus on was the email and the spilled coffee.