Gemotions

The morning light streamed through the blinds, painting stripes across Emily's face. The harshness of it was irritating, and she buried her head deeper into her pillow. She was supposed to be at the coffee shop, "managing" a small group of baristas. The lie had felt so easy at first, the charade simple to maintain.

A wave of nausea churned in her stomach at the thought of the bustling cafe. The sheer effort of pretending to care about frothing milk and taking orders felt overwhelming. She finally threw the covers off, but the impulse to do anything productive was gone. She went back to bed.