Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, felt like an unwelcome spotlight piercing through the curtains. Sarah blinked, her eyelids heavy, the world swimming slightly out of focus as she rubbed them. The coffee she'd brewed tasted more like warm, brown water. She slumped onto the kitchen chair, the morning news droning on unheard in the background. Then, a small voice broke through her fugue. “Mom, can you help me with my permission slip?” Her son, Leo, stood before her, clutching a crumpled piece of paper. As she scanned the document, the name “Mrs. Gable” leaped out. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. *Mrs. Gable?*