Gemotions

A sense of detachment settled over Clara as she sat at the kitchen table. Her head rested on her hand, supporting the dead weight. She watched Alex, his face illuminated by the harsh glow of his phone screen, as he paced back and forth, muttering into the receiver. He held the device to his ear. He was speaking in hushed tones, so low that she could only occasionally catch the odd phrase.

The aroma of dinner, which she had been preparing, offered little comfort. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she blinked repeatedly, trying to clear her vision. The mundane sounds of the apartment, the gentle hum of the refrigerator, seemed to amplify, creating a cacophony that both irritated and lulled her. The sensation was almost unbearable.