Gemotions

The evening air hung heavy, thick with the scent of rain that never came. Amelia slumped onto the worn sofa, the cushions molding to her frame. Every muscle ached, a deep, persistent thrumming that began in her shoulders and radiated outwards. Across the room, Mark was unusually animated, pacing back and forth near the kitchen phone, his voice hushed and low. He gestured emphatically, the shadows in the room dancing with the movement of his hands. Her eyelids felt weighed down, a constant battle to stay open. She reached for the remote, but the movement felt like an immense effort, too much to expend.