Gemotions

The morning sun clawed its way through the blinds, a pale, unwelcome intruder. Amelia groaned, burying her face further into the pillow. Every muscle protested the simple act of waking. She finally levered herself upright, a monumental effort that left her breathing hard. Her phone lay on the nightstand, a tempting digital weight. With a sigh, she reached for it and pecked out a message to her boss: "Running a bit late. The world is conspiring against me. Be there asap." She hit send, then blinked, realizing the contact name wasn't "Mr. Henderson," but "Mom."