Gemotions

The email arrived like a cold shock. A picture of the house. Clean, bright, staged for sale. A knot formed in Emily's stomach, twisting and churning. Her fingers tightened around her phone.

She felt a sudden urge to clean. To scrub, to organize, to force order onto the chaos she felt blooming inside. The thought of the mess in her own apartment – the clothes piled on the chair, the unwashed dishes – filled her with a sense of dread.

She walked to the kitchen and grabbed a cleaning spray, spritzing a counter with too much cleaner. Her hand shook as she wiped, the metallic tang of the cleaner the only thing grounding her to the present.