Gemotions

The smell of cinnamon and sugar – Maya's specialty – usually warmed Amelia. This morning, however, it churned her stomach. She watched Maya carefully pour the batter for her famous pancakes. It wasn't the food, it was the easy way Maya moved about the kitchen that was the issue.

Amelia’s journal had been moved, the ribbon bookmark askew. She knew what she had written; about her insecurities, about her crush on the TA, about her overwhelming anxiety about exams. Suddenly, she felt exposed, vulnerable, naked.

She couldn’t meet Maya's eyes. Instead, she retreated to her own side of the room, fumbling for her laptop. The familiar click of the keys did nothing to alleviate the feeling of unease that had settled over her. Each bite Maya took, seemed to add to Amelia's internal torment.