Gemotions

The news felt like a physical blow. Sarah collapsed onto her bed, the crisp, bureaucratic language of the announcement a cold slap to her face. Everything felt wrong now.

She walked around the apartment, touching things, as if to convince herself they were real. The worn armchair, the chipped teacup, the photograph of her grandmother – each item a precious fragment of her life, now threatened. A cold dread seeped into her bones.

She found herself unable to speak, to share her turmoil. She avoided calls, turned away from her friends. She went to the window, watching the street below, feeling disconnected, a solitary figure adrift in the tide of change. Her fingers were restless, tracing the lines of the window pane.