Gemotions

The small, insignificant act felt enormous now. Lisa sat at the kitchen table, staring at a blank sheet of paper. She had been trying to write a note to her daughter, Emily, but the words wouldn't come. She just couldn't.

She knew she had violated Emily’s privacy, a line she had sworn never to cross. Her mouth felt dry, and she kept licking her lips. She felt like she was trapped in a cage. Her pulse quickened. The silence in the house was deafening.

She crumpled the paper into a ball. Her hands shook as she threw it in the trash. The crumpled paper was like her heart.