Gemotions

The movers were due at noon. Elena stood on the porch, a silent sentinel against the backdrop of a vibrant sunrise. Her hands were clenched so tightly her fingernails bit into her palms. The painted wood, usually a cheerful yellow, appeared dull and lifeless under the morning light. The moving crew was late, but she didn’t care. She was completely unable to take any action. The phone rang, a shrill interruption to the quiet, but she couldn't bring herself to answer it. This was all too much.