Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in her mouth. She swirled the lukewarm liquid, the ceramic cold against her fingertips. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, painting stripes across the cluttered desk, each a mocking reminder of the hours she’d poured into the damn article. The email, the one with the link, sat unopened in her inbox, a festering wound she didn't want to examine.

A quick sigh escaped her lips. Maybe she would just get another cup. The walk to the kitchen would at least provide a momentary distraction. She considered the prospect, but instead, she just sat there, still, listening to the monotonous hum of the refrigerator.

Her phone buzzed. Her friend, Maya, was going to meet her for lunch. She didn't want to go. She texted back that she was swamped and couldn't make it.