Gemotions

The speech felt like a burden, a heavy weight on her chest. Each word, each sentence, seemed to require a superhuman effort. She felt like she was wading through molasses.

She got ready, but the act was mechanical. Her movements were slow, her reflection a stranger. The car ride was just a series of turns, an automated process.

The party was a blur of noise and forced smiles. She found a quiet corner, away from the throng, and tried to gather herself. She felt a profound inertia, a stubborn resistance to engagement.