Gemotions

The heat of the day seemed to amplify everything, making Amelia's skin feel clammy. She sat on her porch, her head resting against her hand. A gentle breeze stirred, but did nothing to cool her. A thick, almost tangible, heaviness settled over her.

The sound of sawing echoed from next door. It was Mr. Garcia, readying the wood for his fence. She watched the activity with detached interest.

He strolled over to her, wiping sweat from his forehead. “You okay, Amelia? You seem…” He paused, searching for the right word.

Amelia simply shook her head, unable to speak, the world growing increasingly indistinct. She wanted to be nowhere.