Gemotions

The newspaper felt heavy in Clara's hands. She hadn't left her couch since dawn, the curtains drawn against the bright morning. The announcement in the campus newsletter of the published anthology brought a wave of dread. She was certain her essay was awful. That thought weighed on her, and the idea of facing her peers, of being *seen*, paralyzed her.

She picked at a stray thread on the sofa cushion, the repetitive action a futile attempt at grounding herself. A sense of detachment had settled over her, a feeling of being outside of herself, watching her own life unfold in slow motion. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly, each second a reminder of the things she wasn't doing.

Finally, she forced herself to open the digital copy of the anthology. Her essay. The words swam on the screen, blurring into a meaningless jumble. A deep sigh escaped her, the air thick with unspoken anxieties.