Gemotions

He’d been rattling on for five minutes, detailing the incredible opportunities awaiting him in Seattle, before the full weight of it crashed down on Clara. Her mind, usually sharp and quick, felt like it was encased in concrete. The air in the park, usually filled with the scent of pine and the laughter of children, suddenly felt thin, almost suffocating.

Clara's jaw dropped. She blinked rapidly, as though trying to clear a visual obstruction. Her hands instinctively flew to her mouth, covering a gasp that she couldn't quite contain. The picnic basket at her feet, carefully packed with their favorite snacks, seemed suddenly irrelevant, even absurd.

“Move…Seattle?” she finally managed, her voice oddly high-pitched. She had to repeat his words. The thought didn't compute, like a math problem she'd failed.