Gemotions

"No, thank you," the email had said. The polite dismissal had settled in Clara's stomach like a stone. She felt a magnetic pull to her kitchen, but not to eat. She went to the pantry and threw out all the snacks and junk foods. She needed to feel she was getting rid of all the bad things.

She needed to create something. Anything. She grabbed a pile of clay, something she rarely used, and started to sculpt. She pounded and kneaded, the physical exertion a temporary balm for her inner state. Her hands worked with a frantic energy, shaping and reshaping the clay, but nothing felt right. Everything looked wrong.

Her shoulders ached, her palms were stained, but she couldn't stop. She created a grotesque creature. It was hideous. She took a step back and threw it against the wall. She felt a perverse satisfaction as it shattered, the pieces falling to the floor.