Gemotions

A wave of heat washed over Amelia, making her cheeks burn. She paced her small space, the worn rug offering no solace. Her fists were balled so tightly her nails dug crescent moons into her palms. The sheer nerve of it! He had the audacity to ask about the poetry she’d been working on, quoting a line she’d only written a day before. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in. She stopped abruptly, her gaze darting towards the bookshelf, then to the closed journal on her desk. A sigh escaped her, a puff of air that felt thick and heavy in her chest.