Gemotions

The review, a digital dagger, was still open on her phone. Amelia reread the words, the casual cruelty of each sentence a fresh sting. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking as she chopped a meager carrot for the soup. Each slice was too thick, too thin, failing in her own estimation. The kitchen, once her sanctuary, now felt like a cage. She slammed the knife down, the sound echoing in the sudden silence.

She spent the remainder of the evening staring out of her window. The city lights blurred through her tear-filled eyes. Every shadow seemed to mock her. The laughter from the nearby bar scraped against her ears. Eventually, she made her way into her bedroom and closed the blinds.

Sleep eluded her. The critic's words reverberated in her mind, a relentless loop of rejection. She sat on the edge of her bed, her breath shallow. Every creak of the house, every rustle outside, sent a jolt of anxiety through her. The duvet lay untouched, a symbol of the peace she couldn't reach.