Gemotions

The newspaper clipping slipped from Maya's trembling hands. *Le Petit Bistro to Close its Doors.* The paper fluttered to the floor. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm. She felt a sudden need to be somewhere else, anywhere else.

She closed her eyes, trying to conjure the scent of lavender and garlic, the clinking of glasses. The image wouldn't coalesce. Instead, a wave of nausea rolled over her. She gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, finding a measure of solidity.

The world seemed to tilt. She swayed. She needed air, to breathe. It was all she could think of. She had to get out, now.