Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, felt like a cruel intruder. Amelia groaned, burying her face further into the pillow. Every movement was an effort, a slow, deliberate act against an unseen weight. She’d promised herself she’d be at the farmer’s market by eight, but the thought of even pulling back the covers made her stomach churn. The phone, vibrating insistently on the bedside table, finally forced her to action. A voice, clipped and unfamiliar, announced itself as a solicitor, then delivered a bombshell about a will and a sibling.