Gemotions

The chipped mug felt heavy in Eleanor's hands, the lukewarm tea barely touched. Her mother’s announcement hung in the air, a sticky, suffocating cloud. Around her, the kitchen bustled. Dad, already bustling, hummed a tuneless song, a habit that usually soothed her, but now grated like nails on a chalkboard. Her sister, Sarah, bounced on the balls of her feet, chattering excitedly about the upcoming baptism. Eleanor felt a coldness creep into her bones, a chill that had nothing to do with the draft from the open window. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words caught in her throat, replaced by a dull ache behind her eyes. She wanted to run away.