Gemotions

The air grew close, the scent of stale coffee and fear clinging to Amelia’s nostrils. She ran a hand through her hair, the movement jerky and uncoordinated. Beside her, Ben was rambling about the structural integrity of the building, a torrent of technical jargon that only served to intensify her unease. Three hours. The number echoed in her mind, a mocking reminder of her lack of agency.

She hated feeling this way, trapped and powerless. It was a familiar sensation, a feeling of being mired in something beyond her control. She felt the weight of her responsibilities, her anxieties, her future. She felt an urge to run, to fly, to simply vanish. Instead, she was here.