Gemotions

The email notification had arrived at dawn. A link to a website, a flood of memories she’d long buried. She set her phone on the kitchen counter and went about the familiar motions of making coffee. The hiss of the espresso machine, the clinking of the mug, each action deliberate and measured.

She picked up her phone. A wave of unease washed over her, a prickling sensation across her skin, but she didn't drop it. Her thumb hovered over the link. Her internal clock told her it was almost time for work. It didn't matter.

She clicked. The site loaded.