Gemotions

The world felt muted, as if seen through a veil of cotton. Sarah sat rigidly in her chair, the crumpled rejection letter a crumpled map of her dashed hopes. The silence of her apartment was thick, suffocating.

She picked at a loose thread on her sweater, her fingers trembling. Each pull felt like tearing at her own skin. She could feel the pulse in her temple, a steady, insistent thrum that mirrored the building pressure in her chest.

Her gaze drifted to the window, the grey sky mirroring her mood. She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. She felt suddenly, acutely, alone.