Gemotions

The gentle crackle of the fireplace cast dancing shadows on the walls of her cottage. Eleanor, nestled in a plush armchair, sipped a glass of wine, the warmth spreading through her body. The firelight illuminated the vibrant tapestries she'd painstakingly woven, each a story in itself. It was the culmination of years of work, finally displayed in a home built to her specific needs. Her life, for the first time, felt truly her own.

A friend sent her a link. The image that appeared on her screen was of an arm, inked with a complex weaving pattern that was unmistakably one of her designs. The air in the room seemed to thicken, a sudden chill settling in her bones.