Gemotions

The chipped mug slipped from Sarah’s grasp, shattering on the kitchen tile. Hot tea splashed onto her bare feet, unnoticed. She stared, unseeing, at the email glowing on her laptop screen. Across the country? Across the country. Her breath hitched, a thin, strangled sound. “No,” she whispered, the word a tiny, fragile thing against the sudden roaring in her ears.

She scrambled to her feet, knocking over the kitchen chair. Her hands flew to her mouth, fingers digging in as if to physically restrain the scream threatening to erupt. The air felt thick, impossible to breathe. She had to *do* something. She began pacing, back and forth, the cold tile a strange comfort against the sudden, prickling heat that crawled across her skin.

She picked up the phone, her fingers fumbling with the numbers. Her throat constricted. When the familiar voice on the other end answered, a sob escaped her, ragged and uncontrollable. "Don't go," she managed to choke out, the words dissolving into a torrent of incoherent pleas.