Gemotions

"Just get out," she snarled at the delivery man, slamming the door before he could even respond. He jumped, his face a mask of confusion. That's the only kindness she’d show him all day. The thought provided a sliver of satisfaction.

The apartment was a mess, a testament to her current state. Clothes littered the floor, dishes overflowed in the sink, and dust motes danced in the lone ray of sunlight. She didn't care. Nothing mattered.

She poured herself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling like the turmoil inside her. The first sip burned all the way down. The second, and the world seemed a little clearer, a little easier to bear.