Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled in her hand, the lukewarm liquid sloshing over the rim. She set it down with a sharp clack, the sound lost in the cacophony. Her jaw clenched. Each reverberation was a direct assault on her senses, a physical force she could feel in her bones. She glanced at the clock: 3:17 PM. A Sunday. The one day she had to herself.

She fumbled with the clasp of her handbag. Where was the blasted address book? She needed to make that call, but first, the number! With a frustrated huff, she began tearing apart the contents of her bag, papers flying.