Gemotions

The paper lay face down on the kitchen table, a mocking silhouette against the morning light. Sarah couldn’t bring herself to flip it over. She chewed on her thumbnail, the familiar anxiety prickling beneath her skin. This wasn’t right. She’d spent weeks on the project, meticulously researching, crafting, editing. Now, the space in her chest felt tight, as if a small animal was trapped, thrashing. She abruptly stood, pushing her chair back with a scrape, and started pacing the length of the galley kitchen. The rhythmic thump of her sneakers against the linoleum was the only sound besides the gentle hum of the refrigerator.