Gemotions

Her afternoon, a battlefield of expectations and obligations, was suddenly... cleared. "Postponed," the text read, like a sentence of respite. She was already in her comfiest sweatpants and hadn't even attempted to brush her hair. The prospect of getting dolled up, the forced cheerfulness, the small talk – it had all felt like wading through molasses. Now, that sticky goo seemed to evaporate. A sense of... ease? spread through her. Maybe she'd finally try that new recipe. Maybe not.