Gemotions

The paper crackled in Amelia’s trembling hand. The words swam before her eyes, blurring into an unintelligible mess of legal jargon. She clenched her jaw, feeling a tightening across her chest that made it hard to breathe. Her fingers, usually nimble and quick when she was sewing, now fumbled with the edge of the notice, nearly tearing it. The coffee she had just poured sat untouched on the table, already growing cold. She ran a hand through her hair, the strands catching on the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. "This can't be happening," she whispered, her voice barely audible.