Gemotions

"This isn't happening," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The email sat open on her phone, a tiny, glowing rectangle of doom. She stared at the subject line, the words blurring into an incomprehensible mass. Her hands began to tingle.

She needed to get out, to move, to do *anything* but sit here. She jumped up from the couch, pacing the confines of her small apartment. The walls seemed to be closing in.

She glanced at the kitchen counter, where a half-eaten bag of chips lay discarded. The thought of food made her nauseous. The only relief was to look away, to not acknowledge the truth of what was now happening.