Gemotions

Maria felt a coldness wash over her as she read the email. She felt a kind of hollowness, like a shell that had lost its inhabitant. She pushed away from her desk, the chair scraping against the floor. The sound, sharp and unwelcome, echoed her mood. She walked toward the window, her steps slow and deliberate.

She remembered the vibrant mural that had adorned her elementary school's playground, a kaleidoscope of colors that had seemed to hold all the promise of the world. She'd been a clumsy child, always falling, but always getting back up. She remembered her friends and their dreams. They used to plan to see the world.

She could almost feel the sun on her face, hear the shouts of children at play. A distant, half-forgotten longing tugged at her, a sensation she couldn't quite name. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the memory of the playground flood her senses, then she turned away from the window, and reached for her phone.