Gemotions

Clara felt a constriction in her chest, a knot she couldn't untie. The radio crackled to life in her small, cluttered kitchen. She was attempting to make dinner, but the ingredients seemed to mock her, the onions a hateful reminder of tears. Then, the opening strains of *her* song – a song she’d penned in college, a song she’d all but forgotten.

Her fingers went numb. The wooden spoon slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the linoleum. The world spun for a moment. This was wrong. It shouldn't be happening.

She pressed her palms against her temples, trying to steady herself. The singer's voice, smooth and polished, mocked her amateurish attempt at the same melody. A wave of nausea washed over her. She switched off the radio and sank onto a kitchen chair, the silence amplifying the frantic drumming of her own heart.