Gemotions

The wallpaper seemed to breathe, the pattern a hypnotic swirl. Emily slumped on her bed, the familiar weight of the comforter suddenly suffocating. She couldn’t stay still. She had to *do* something, anything, to break free of this suffocating stillness.

She grabbed a notebook and pen, the smooth paper a tactile pleasure. The words poured out of her, a chaotic stream of consciousness. She wrote for hours, fueled by a relentless energy. The words were a torrent, a way to channel the inner current.

Later, she paced the living room, her mind racing. She stopped abruptly in front of the window, staring at the street below. She needed to feel the world, to be a part of it, to be outside.