Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled Amelia's kitchen as she hummed along to the radio, kneading the dough with practiced ease. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. She glanced at the clock, a slow smile spreading across her face. Time enough to let the dough rise, then a leisurely afternoon of gardening before the evening’s dinner with friends. Her life felt like a gently flowing river, its banks familiar and welcoming.

The phone vibrated on the counter. A text from her best friend, a link to an obscure blog. Curiosity piqued, she clicked it, expecting another meme. Instead, she found the familiar, childish scrawl of her teenage self staring back at her. Her face drained of color as the words, once private, now blazed across the screen.