Gemotions

The envelope felt strangely heavy in her hand. She’d put it off for weeks, the anticipation making her stomach churn. Now, sitting on the edge of the bed, the paper crinkling between her fingers, she slit it open. The words swam before her eyes: "Not a match." The air whooshed out of her lungs in a silent sigh.

She rose and walked to the window, gazing at the familiar street. The neighborhood, once a prison of expectation, now shimmered with possibility. She felt a sudden urge to paint, a vibrant, chaotic splash of color on a blank canvas. She grabbed her art supplies, a forgotten passion, and attacked the canvas with a ferocity that surprised even herself. This new information felt like the starting gun for a race she finally wanted to run.