Gemotions

The aroma of burnt toast filled the kitchen, a sharp reminder of the day’s failures. Emily stared at the charred bread in the toaster, her appetite gone. The sun struggled to break through the clouds, and the dim light cast long shadows in the room. Her phone buzzed, the sound jarring. She knew what it was. The request. From "Paul Davies."

She’d spent years trying to forget him. The memory of his cruelty still burned, a permanent mark on her psyche. The feeling of being trapped, of being controlled, flooded her. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She knew that the request was, in reality, nothing at all. But it felt as though it was crushing her. She needed to escape.

She pulled on her coat.