Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Amelia’s hands, yet the chill in her apartment seemed to seep deeper, settling in her bones. Rain lashed against the window, blurring the city lights into smeared halos. She'd been on the couch, staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, the flickering glow of the television a pointless companion. Her phone remained untouched, a sleek black rectangle mocking her. A text from Mark, the usual sweet nothings, sat unread. He’d be arriving in an hour.

The doorbell chimed, a musical sound that grated on her nerves. She dragged herself up, the familiar weight in her chest pressing down. As she opened the door, a woman she’d never seen stood there, a crimson scarf askew around her neck. "Is this Mark's place?" she asked, a tentative smile on her face. Amelia, speechless, could only nod, a slow, numb movement.