Gemotions

"Just breathe," Sarah muttered, but her lungs felt constricted. She was back in the familiar confines of her kitchen, the air thick with the scent of dinner she’d started and then abandoned. The hospital's mistake had brought on a rising tide of worry.

She slammed the refrigerator door shut, causing a small jar of pickles to rattle precariously on a shelf. The sound was sharp in the quiet kitchen. She needed to leave.

Grabbing her keys, she quickly left the house. She needed to feel the road beneath her tires, the wind in her hair. She drove, not towards anywhere in particular, just away from the suffocating feeling of being trapped.