Gemotions

The photograph of the essay on the screen felt like a physical weight, pressing down on Clara. Her essay, about her time spent volunteering at the animal shelter, had been published on the school's website. She felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to fidget with the pen in her hand.

She remembered the smells: the disinfectant, the wet fur, the lingering scent of anxiety that hung in the air. She thought of the animals, their hopeful eyes, their silent suffering. She felt the familiar ache in her chest, the one that always came when she thought of them. The warmth of a memory and the sadness of the present.

Her fingers tapped restlessly on the desk. She should call the shelter, she thought. It had been too long. She needed to do something, anything, to distract herself from the memory of that day.