Gemotions

The rhythmic click-clack of the knitting needles, the soft wool that felt so good in her fingers, the quiet company of the other knitters at "The Yarn Barn" – it all calmed Elizabeth. Every Thursday night, she’d arrive with a project and a cup of tea. It was where she felt a sense of belonging.

The owner, a kindly woman named Agnes, came to her with a look of devastation. "Elizabeth, honey," Agnes said, her voice cracking. "We're closing. No one's buying yarn anymore."

Elizabeth's breath hitched in her throat. The familiar wool in her hands felt like a burden. The sound of the knitting needles, usually soothing, now grated on her nerves. The cozy room, usually a refuge, suddenly felt cold and exposed. She felt the urge to flee.