Gemotions

Elara stretched languidly, the sun hitting her back, warming her muscles. She made herself a cup of chamomile tea, its aroma filling her small kitchen. The soft glow of the morning light illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air. She settled in her favorite armchair with her book of poetry.

As she read, her finger traced the lines, and she felt a sense of utter calm. She closed her eyes.

A week later, she found herself in the middle of a crowded street in a strange city, surrounded by a cacophony of sound. She was led to a small shop, where, in the window, her work was displayed. It was a jolt, an intrusion. She felt the warmth drain from her body, replaced by a coldness that settled deep within.