Gemotions

The scent of lavender, usually a comfort to Emily, now felt cloying, suffocating. She’d just finished repainting the guest room, a project meant to soothe her anxieties. The paint fumes, once pleasant, now made her head swim. The realtor had mentioned the crime, a domestic dispute, in a detached tone, as though it were a mere inconvenience.

Emily, however, felt as though the air had been sucked from the room. She kept imagining the scene, the shouts, the panic, the finality. Her pulse hammered in her ears. She dropped her paintbrush, the bristles clattering on the drop cloth.

She needed to get out, to breathe. She walked to the window, her hand trembling as she opened it wide. The fresh air did little to calm her. She leaned against the wall, utterly drained, and closed her eyes.