Gemotions

The woman slammed the front door, the sound echoing unnaturally loud in the sudden, oppressive quiet of her home. Her hands, balled into fists, were white at the knuckles. A burning sensation, like acid, bloomed in her stomach.

She paced the length of her living room, her steps jerky and erratic, each footfall a thunderclap in her ears. The floral wallpaper began to writhe before her eyes. The idea of losing the open view of the street terrified her.

“No, no, no,” she whispered, her voice cracking. Her fingers twitched, desperate for something to grasp. She ran her hands through her hair, pulling at the strands. This wasn't happening. It couldn't.

She had to get out, to escape the suffocating walls closing in around her. She grabbed her keys, her movements jerky and ill-coordinated, and flung herself back out into the open air.