Gemotions

The email notification popped up, mocking its sender with their professional logo. Sarah, reading it on her phone, felt a coldness creep over her skin, an arctic chill despite the midday heat. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. The polite language of the email felt like a slap in the face. She wanted to scream.

She slumped against the counter in her kitchen, the granite cold against her back. The taste of bile rose in her throat. She clenched her jaw so hard she thought her teeth would crack. The carefully arranged fruit bowl, a symbol of her optimistic efforts, seemed to taunt her with its vibrancy. She reached out, then swiped the entire thing onto the floor.