Gemotions

The silence in the diner was almost unbearable. Grace picked at the eggs on her plate, the food tasting like ash. The vibrant, boisterous family dinners she used to cherish now seemed like a performance, a carefully constructed illusion.

She excused herself from the table, a thin film of sweat across her forehead. The walk to the bathroom felt like an eternity. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she saw a stranger, a collection of borrowed features.

Back at the table, she couldn’t meet their eyes. The forced cheerfulness, the casual conversation, grated on her nerves. She felt a profound sense of isolation, marooned on an island of her own making. The world had tilted.