Gemotions

The humid air of the antique shop clung to Amelia's skin, making her want to shed it. The scent of dust and old wood did nothing to soothe the tension knotting in her shoulders. Her Aunt Mildred, all flitting energy and a too-bright smile, gestured expansively towards the chipped porcelain doll she was trying to sell. "Isn't she lovely, darling? Imagine all the history!" Amelia gripped her purse tighter, the leather creaking.

"She’s seen better days, Aunt Mildred," Amelia managed, her voice tight. The doll’s vacant eyes seemed to mock her.

A bead of sweat trickled down Amelia's temple. Mildred was clearly oblivious, chattering on about the doll's supposed value. Amelia's jaw ached with the effort of holding back a sharp retort. She needed to escape, to breathe air that didn’t feel ancient.