Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpanes, mirroring the frantic drumming in her chest. The complaint had been delivered in a low, gravelly voice, a threat masked as a neighborly chat. Now, every creak of the house, every gust of wind, made her jump.

She found herself checking the locks on the doors and windows repeatedly, a mechanical ritual that offered no solace. Her reflection in the darkened window showed a face drained of color, eyes wide and fixed on the shadows outside.

The phone lay on the coffee table, a cold, inanimate object that represented both potential salvation and utter helplessness. She reached for it, then snatched her hand back, her fingers tingling with a strange, unfamiliar sensation.