Gemotions

The small, cluttered apartment felt suddenly suffocating to Clara. The letter, slipped discreetly beneath her door that morning, felt like a physical weight on her chest. Her breath caught in her throat. She glanced around the room, as though searching for an escape.

She began to pick at a fraying edge of the tablecloth, her fingers moving in a frantic rhythm. She stood up abruptly and started rearranging the objects on her desk, the movements jerky and agitated. The silence of the apartment was broken only by the rapid thumping of her own heart. She felt like she wanted to scream.