Gemotions

The message had arrived at 3 a.m. She had been sleeping, but the vibration of her phone against the nightstand had jolted her awake. She stared at the words on the screen, her eyes wide, her mind struggling to process what they meant.

She ran her fingers through her hair, a gesture of confusion and distress. Her skin felt cold, despite the warmth of the room. She was flooded with a sense of unreality, as if this was all a terrible dream.

She tried to rationalize, to find some other explanation, but each attempt crumbled under the weight of the evidence. She felt herself spiraling, the ground beneath her feet shifting and unstable. Sleep was impossible.