Gemotions

The newspaper felt heavy in Clara's hands. She hadn’t been paying attention to anything, and now, the headline seemed to mock her. “The Golden Spoon to Close After Fifty Years.” Her favorite place for a slice of pie and a cup of coffee. The paper felt like a lead weight.

She slammed the paper down on the table, the action a small explosion of frustration. The world seemed suddenly devoid of color. The very air had lost its vibrancy. She reached for the phone, then hesitated, the urge to call her friend, to share the bitterness she felt, dying before it reached her lips. Instead, she stared out the window, at the bright sunshine, which now seemed almost insulting.

She needed something, anything, to pierce this shell of… indifference. She took a deep breath, an effort that felt burdensome.