Gemotions

“Why?” The single word hung in Eleanor’s mind, a constant, echoing question. She stood at the kitchen sink, the water running cold over her hands, the chill doing nothing to alleviate the internal cold she felt. The morning light, usually welcome, felt cold against her skin.

A small package had arrived, containing a book. “Eleanor Vance: A Portrait in Words.” The weight of the words pressed down on her chest. She hadn’t been consulted. She felt as though her private garden had been invaded.

Her usual energy was gone. She felt as though every action was happening underwater. The world was a blur, the edges of everything softened. She wanted to disappear. Her reflection in the window seemed to be a stranger.