Gemotions

Her stomach churned. The party next door was reaching a fever pitch. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She slumped against the kitchen counter, the cool granite doing little to soothe the growing ache. The complaints from her neighbor, Mr. Peterson, were now a daily occurrence.

She felt herself shrinking, withdrawing. She wanted to burrow into the floor, to become invisible. The thought of arguing with him again made her physically ill. The thought of anything at all felt unbearable.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the noise, the pressure. Her hands were clammy, her heart racing. She had to escape, just for a little while. The thought of being in her place, made her want to run.