Gemotions

The critic’s words, sharp and precise, seemed to hover in Clara’s mind, repeating over and over. "Overpriced… pretentious… a culinary disaster." She slammed the front door of her apartment. Each footstep felt heavy, weighted down by a crushing sense of disappointment.

She kicked off her shoes and dropped them on the floor. Her usual tidy apartment seemed to shrink around her, the familiar comforts suddenly alien. The aroma of lilies she’d bought earlier in the day now smelled cloying, almost sickening. She didn't want to look at them.

Clara sat on her couch, pulling her knees to her chest. She stared blankly at the television. She’d put on her favorite show, but she couldn’t focus on it. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe deeply, but the air felt thin and difficult to draw.