Gemotions

"Well, that's just fantastic," Amelia muttered, staring at the tiny screen. She’d always admired her mother’s artistic flair, her grandmother’s sharp wit. Now it was all a lie. The thought gnawed at her, a constant, dull ache behind her ribs. She tossed the results onto the coffee table, scattering the magazines she'd been meticulously arranging earlier.

She walked through her house, touching the objects that had represented her life – the inherited antique chair, the framed photograph of her family at the beach. Each touch felt like a betrayal. She felt a pressing need to run, to disappear. A sudden, sharp pain flared in her chest, a physical manifestation of her emotional turmoil. She felt lost.