Gemotions

The balloons, deflated and forgotten in the corner of her apartment, mocked her. Sarah kicked at one, the flimsy latex offering only a pathetic pop of resistance. The decorations, carefully chosen and lovingly hung, now represented a cruel joke. Her lower lip trembled, and she quickly bit down on it, as if afraid to make a sound.

She walked over to the mirror, and a stranger stared back at her. Her face, usually so animated, was a mask of tightly controlled sadness. She slowly began taking down the streamers, her movements stiff and mechanical, each tear she peeled from the wall a fresh wave of something akin to rage.