Gemotions

The email sat in her inbox, glowing ominously. Her photographs, stolen from her personal website, were now displayed on a billboard overlooking a busy highway. A tremor went through Clara, a sudden wave of icy dread. She felt a tremor in her hands.

The sun beat down on her face, but she felt no warmth. Every thought seemed heavy, slow, as if wading through thick, viscous mud. She picked at the chipped paint on her windowsill, oblivious to the task, lost in a swirling vortex of confusion and violation.

She wanted to call someone, but the words wouldn't come. Her phone lay on the table, a cold, unresponsive brick. She closed her eyes, seeking refuge in the darkness, hoping the feeling would pass.