Gemotions

The world felt muted, like everything was happening underwater. The doorbell’s shrill ring was a harsh intrusion. I was in a cocoon of blankets.

It was Ms. Olsen. Her mouth was moving, but the words were a distant echo. She was pointing to the large pine, which had always bothered her.

The room seemed to spin. Everything, the conversation, the tree, the sun, was too much. The effort of standing, of even acknowledging her presence, felt impossible. I couldn't move. I felt drained, spent, and all I could think of was going back to the place I had just come from.