Gemotions

The morning sun, a glaring spotlight, demanded attention. Amelia pulled the covers tighter, the cotton a comforting weight. The email on her phone blinked accusingly: a reminder for her appointment with Dr. Thornton. The thought of getting dressed, of facing the world, felt like scaling a mountain. Her fingers traced the indentations on the duvet; each tiny divot was a testament to the current inertia.

She groaned, the sound muffled by the blankets. A cold draft snaked under the door. She knew she should get up to close the window, but the allure of the warmth, of remaining still, was overwhelming. She considered ordering breakfast, but the simple act of choosing a restaurant seemed like a monumental task.

Amelia’s mind drifted to the news she had received a few weeks ago - Dr. Thornton, her childhood bully, was now a therapist. The irony was almost too much to bear. She thought of her appointment time; she knew she'd be late.