Gemotions

The aroma of her favourite coffee did little to lift her mood. She sat at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread before her, but the headlines remained unread. Her mind was elsewhere, circling a dark, formless cloud of worry and uncertainty.

She couldn’t eat, the food sitting uneaten on her plate. Her energy was drained, and she struggled to focus on the simplest of tasks. She felt disconnected from the world, a ghost in her own life.

The doorbell rang. She was not expecting anyone. Wearily, she went to answer it. A woman stood on the doorstep, clutching a file, her gaze filled with a familiar mixture of apprehension and recognition. "I think," the woman began, her voice trembling slightly, "we might have something in common."