Gemotions

The world seemed to have faded to gray, the same color as the dog’s fur as it romped in the garden. She sat on the porch steps, the wood cold beneath her. The sun was hidden behind a bank of clouds, and the air was thick with the promise of rain. She simply could not summon the energy to care.

She had received a letter that morning, a rejection. It should have been just a small blip, a small bump on the road. But it had taken root and spread.

She traced a crack in the concrete with her finger, feeling a strange kinship with the fractured surface.