Gemotions

"It's just a bit," the man had said, but to Eleanor it was a landslide. She’d mumbled agreement, her voice lost in the sudden roar in her ears. Now, back inside, she felt a trapped bird fluttering in her chest. The walls of her house, once protective, felt like they were closing in.

She paced the length of her living room, her steps quick and agitated. The furniture, arranged just so, now seemed to mock her. The sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, each one a microscopic irritant. She felt a need to scream, to lash out, but the words caught in her throat, replaced by a hollow ache.