Gemotions

The paper crackled in Martha's trembling hand. She crumpled it into a ball, then immediately smoothed it out, smoothing it out again and again until the ink smeared across the brittle page. Her jaw clenched so hard she thought her teeth might shatter. This was ludicrous. Absolutely ludicrous.

She paced the cramped living room, the threadbare carpet barely cushioning her heavy steps. The chipped coffee table wobbled precariously with each stride. She felt a heat rising in her chest, a volcanic rumbling she hadn't anticipated.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, her voice tight and strained. She grabbed a dusty bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, poured a hefty slug into a chipped mug, and slammed it down. The liquor burned a fiery trail, but the heat inside her remained. She needed a plan. Fast.