Gemotions

The humid air of the late afternoon pressed down on Amelia, making her eyelids heavy. She leaned against the chipped brick wall of the coffee shop, the lukewarm latte in her hand feeling strangely heavy. Sarah’s words, a dull echo in her ears, repeated: "I'm moving to California." Amelia just wanted to close her eyes for a moment. She blinked, the world blurring at the edges.

A yawn escaped her lips, a wide, involuntary stretch that left her jaw feeling loose. Sarah, oblivious to Amelia's sudden inertia, was animatedly describing the Pacific coast. Amelia tried to focus, to inject some enthusiasm into her responses, but each word felt like an enormous effort. Her head throbbed gently, a rhythm against the drone of the city traffic.

"So," Sarah continued, her voice chirping with excitement, "I'm going to need you to help me pack." Amelia nodded slowly, her mind already drifting to the image of her own bed, the soft, familiar comfort of the sheets. The thought of sorting through boxes seemed utterly exhausting.