Gemotions

"No," Sarah muttered under her breath, staring at the screen. The weight in her chest was oppressive. She pushed away from her desk, the chair screeching against the linoleum. She felt a need to move, a desperate need to burn off the energy coursing through her.

She grabbed a half-eaten apple from the counter and started pacing in the small kitchen. The walls seemed to close in, the air stale. She bit into the apple, the sweetness doing nothing to alleviate the sourness in her stomach.

She considered calling her mom, but that felt like admitting defeat. Instead, she put on her headphones, blasting music, and started cleaning – scrubbing the floors, wiping down the counters, her movements jerky and inefficient.