Gemotions

The silence in her apartment was oppressive. Usually, she loved the quiet, a space for creativity. Now, it was a hollow echo of her aspirations. She closed her eyes and the world became a black void.

She tried to conjure the scenes from her book, the characters that had occupied her mind for years, but they were now ghosts, fading, insubstantial. She’d spent years developing them, and now, they were gone.

She made some tea, the ritual a familiar comfort, but even the warm drink couldn’t chase away the chill that had settled deep within her bones. The tea tasted like ash.