Gemotions

The coffee shop buzzed with chatter, but Amelia remained detached, the noise a distant hum. She clutched the worn paperback in her hands, her knuckles white. The diary entries, once private, were now dissected by strangers. She ran a hand through her hair, a gesture that did little to ease the tension in her neck.

She couldn’t eat, the croissant on her plate untouched. The aroma of coffee, usually comforting, now turned her stomach. She watched the other customers, imagining their conversations, their judgements. Their words would forever echo in her mind, repeating with a sickening rhythm.

She wanted to run, to hide. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if the very air around her was pressing down.