Gemotions

She sat on the edge of the bed, the crumpled letter, which she’d printed, clutched tightly in her hand. The words swam before her eyes, each syllable a brick in the wall she'd been building her entire life. Her fingers trembled. The room seemed too bright, the light harsh and unforgiving. She felt a profound sense of disorientation, as though the world had tilted on its axis.

The house around her felt hollow, the familiar comforts suddenly alien. The pictures on the wall, once sources of comfort, now seemed to mock her. She got up and walked over to the window, staring out at the vibrant green of the lawn, a vibrant green she no longer felt connected to.

She thought of calling someone, anyone. But who could possibly understand the tidal wave of emptiness that threatened to engulf her? She turned away from the window, a knot forming in her throat.