Gemotions

She sat on the back porch, the evening air unusually cool against her skin. The published diary. The words echoed in her mind. Her fingers danced nervously on her knee, mimicking the frantic scribbles of her youth. Every thought and emotion felt amplified, transformed into a weapon pointed at her.

The sounds of the neighborhood blended into a dissonant symphony. Children’s laughter seemed distant, a taunt. She stared at the garden, now shadowed by the approaching dusk, and felt a profound sense of alienation. Everything looked different. Everything felt different.

She rose, her legs heavy, and wandered inside. The house, once a comfort, now felt like a prison. The past had broken into her present.