Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Amelia’s hands, but did little to soothe the chill creeping up her spine. Sunlight streamed into the kitchen, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air, but she barely registered it. Across the table, Liam was talking, his usual boisterous energy subdued. He was explaining the logistics – the packing, the new job, the different time zone. Amelia kept nodding, mechanically, focusing on the rhythmic swirling of the lukewarm tea. It felt like her insides were tightening, a slow squeeze.

He stopped, suddenly, and reached across the table, covering her hand with his. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softer now. Amelia swallowed, a sharp, metallic tang in her mouth. She forced a smile, a brittle thing that felt like it would crack. "Yeah," she managed, the word sounding small and thin.

A sudden urge to bolt, to run out into the sunshine and keep running until the world was a blur, gripped her. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Liam’s hand was warm, grounding her, but the tremor in her fingers betrayed the turmoil.