Gemotions

The world had tilted on its axis. Since the crash, everything felt…wrong. The air hung heavy, pressing down on her chest. The normally comforting scent of baking bread from her kitchen had become nauseating. She’d tried to distract herself, to find solace in the usual rituals, but even her favorite book seemed to mock her.

She'd watched from her window. Mrs. Peterson, the elderly neighbor, stood amidst the debris, her face a mask of bewildered shock. The whole neighborhood had gathered, the once familiar faces now seemed hostile.

She forced herself to eat a piece of toast, but it stuck in her throat. She closed her eyes, the insistent pounding in her head growing louder. Her hands trembled as she lifted a glass of water, the tremor betraying the anxiety she desperately tried to conceal.