Gemotions

The bus rattled along the familiar route, mirroring the chaotic churn in Clara’s stomach. A local shop displayed her ceramic sculptures in their front window. Pieces she had left on the back shelf, clay creations she had deemed "unfinished." She hadn't sculpted anything since she put those pieces in the bin.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, watching her work through the window. The glaze gleamed under the shop lights. Other shoppers, unaware of the internal turmoil, browsed leisurely. She was frozen to her seat, as if physically chained, to the route that took her past the shop.