Gemotions

The ringing phone was a physical blow, a harsh jolt to her equilibrium. Amelia stared at it, her chest constricting. She knew what it was. Her neighbor, Mrs. Gable, complaining again.

Her breath hitched. She let the phone go to voicemail. The silence was a small comfort, a brief reprieve from the impending anxiety. She retreated to the kitchen, seeking the familiar solace of a cup of tea.

The kettle’s whistle was shrill, almost painful. She poured boiling water, the steam rising and blurring her vision. Even the clinking of the teacup against the saucer felt too loud. She hugged herself, trying to find some semblance of calm.