Gemotions

The apartment felt like a tomb. Emma stood in her bedroom, staring at the clothes in her closet, each outfit a reminder of a life she couldn't quite embrace. The colors seemed muted, the fabrics unappealing. She should have gone for a walk, but the thought filled her with dread.

She saw a note on the fridge. It was a drawing from her best friend, Amy, from when they were eight years old. Amy had moved away years ago, but Emma still held that memory close to her.

She found Amy's phone number and decided to call. Amy answered, her voice friendly, but unfamiliar.

"I think you have the wrong number," Amy said, after a few minutes of strained conversation.