Gemotions

The clock on the kitchen wall ticked with infuriating slowness. Sarah tapped her foot, the rhythmic thump a counterpoint to the bubbling soup on the stove. This afternoon had dragged. Even the comforting ritual of cooking dinner couldn’t settle the knot in her stomach. She kept opening and closing the refrigerator door, as if the contents might magically transform and resolve the unease that churned inside her. Dinner was almost ready, but she didn’t feel like eating. A letter arrived – a single sheet of paper, delivered by a bewildered postman. It was a note, and it brought her to a standstill.