Gemotions

The argument with her mother, still fresh in her mind, had left Clara raw, exposed. Every tiny noise, the creak of the floorboards, the hum of the refrigerator, seemed to vibrate directly in her bones.

She stood frozen on the porch, staring at the empty patch of cement. The absence of her car was a physical blow. The tow truck, she knew, had arrived just minutes ago.

She felt a hot flush creep up her neck. Her fingers, usually steady, trembled as she reached for her phone. The automated message of the tow company repeated the violation, the bureaucratic language a fresh insult.

She wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words caught in her throat. She sank onto the porch steps, feeling the cold seep into her.