Gemotions

The cheap motel room smelled of stale cigarettes and desperation. She'd followed him, the drive a blur of furious tears and icy determination. He was oblivious, lost in a conversation she could barely hear through the thin walls. Each word was a betrayal, a confirmation of her suspicions.

She felt a hollowness, a desert dryness in her mouth. She didn't want to break the door down. But every single time, it was the same old story.

She leaned against the peeling wallpaper, the floral pattern mocking her. Her hands felt clumsy, useless. The cheap air conditioning unit hummed in the background, a relentless drone. A slow, cold burn spread through her limbs.