Gemotions

The routine had become a prison. Ava felt the same hollowness every morning, the same weight in her chest. The small apartment she shared with her parents felt stifling. She wandered from room to room, feeling like a ghost.

She opened the refrigerator, stared at the assortment of leftovers, then closed it. Her appetite had disappeared. She felt a profound lack of interest in everything. Her phone lay on the counter, unanswered texts piling up. The voices of her friends seemed to fade.

She caught her reflection in the microwave. She saw a shell of a person. She sighed and started doing dishes. She moved through the motions mechanically, a puppet on invisible strings. The world’s vibrant colors seemed muted, filtered through a fog of… nothingness.