Gemotions

She slammed her fist on the steering wheel, the horn blaring briefly in the silent parking garage. The text – "The meatloaf is dry again. And I’m about to lose it." – had gone to her mother. It was meant for her sister, the culprit behind the annual culinary disaster.

Her stomach churned. A knot tightened in her chest. She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm the wild thumping in her heart. This year’s family gathering was going to be an unmitigated disaster.

She rubbed her temples, trying to ward off a throbbing headache. She should have switched to a burner phone years ago, she thought bitterly. Now she had to craft a response.