Gemotions

The world seemed to weigh down on Clara. Each breath felt like a physical exertion. A languid sensation of heaviness seemed to seep into her bones. She sank deeper into the worn armchair, the cushions molding to her form. Her sister, Beth, had gone out, leaving her in charge of her daughter, Poppy. It was a perfectly normal Saturday morning.

Poppy, meanwhile, was engrossed in crayons. Clara could hear the scratchy sounds of the pencils on paper from the kitchen. The sounds were oddly distracting. Poppy brought her a drawing. It was Poppy, hand in hand with a bizarre-looking figure. The figure had a single, gigantic eye and arms made of what appeared to be swirling nebula. Clara’s gaze drifted to the window; the sunlight seemed uncomfortably bright. She put the drawing down on the table, offering a weak smile. Later. She'd get around to it later.