Gemotions

The weight in Clara’s chest was crushing. She reread the email, the words blurring before her eyes. “Moving to Seattle.” The sentence seemed to scream, mocking her. She threw her phone onto the sofa with a thud. The sudden silence was almost worse.

She strode to the window, staring out at the rain-streaked city. It seemed so bleak, reflecting her inner landscape. Her fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on the glass. Suddenly, she needed noise. She put on the loudest song she could find and began to scrub the kitchen floor.

The vigorous movements, the physical exertion, offered a temporary balm. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her hands were raw and the kitchen gleamed. But the email remained, a persistent ache.