Gemotions

The aroma of stale coffee clung to the air in her small apartment, a familiar and unwelcome comfort. Eleanor, her shoulders slumped, pushed the half-eaten breakfast away. Days blurred into weeks, and each morning felt the same as the last. A persistent feeling of disquiet settled over her, a weight she couldn't seem to shake. The doorbell rang. On the doorstep sat a basket overflowing with homemade bread and jam, accompanied by a card from a student, thanking her for something she could barely remember.