Gemotions

The newspaper crumpled in Amelia’s trembling hands. "Closed," the headline screamed, and the letters swam before her eyes. She gasped, her chest suddenly tight, making it difficult to breathe. This couldn't be happening. She had to be dreaming.

She clawed at her throat, as if to rip open a passage for air. Her phone clattered to the floor as she lurched forward, trying to steady herself on the kitchen counter. A wave of nausea washed over her. She scrambled to pick up the paper, eyes frantically scanning the article, hoping for a misprint, a mistake.

“No, no, no,” she choked out, her voice a strangled whisper. She had to do something. She needed to *fix* this. She slammed her fist on the counter, the force of the blow surprising even herself.