Gemotions

The aroma of her favorite meal was lost on her. Her stomach was tied up in knots, rendering the food distasteful. The once-welcoming kitchen now felt like a trap, every appliance a potential listening device.

She scrubbed her hands raw, over and over again, as if trying to wash away the shame and the exposure. The water ran cold, and she was still too hot, too cold.

The phone rang and she froze. Should she answer? What would they say? The ring ceased, replaced by a hollow silence that filled her ears.