Gemotions

The card was a pale blue, with a single, awkwardly drawn balloon on the front. Sarah stared at it, the flimsy paper feeling heavy in her hand. The morning sun, usually a welcome companion, felt like a spotlight on her. She crumpled the card, then smoothed it out again, the crease a dark line across the cheerful image. Her fingers itched, a familiar sensation that usually heralded a panic attack.

She should have gone to work hours ago. The email from her boss, reminding her of the quarterly report, sat unread in her inbox. She’d promised to be at her mother's by dinner. A knot formed in her stomach at the thought, a dull pressure that intensified with each passing second.

The kitchen clock ticked loudly, each second a hammer blow against the silence. She needed to breathe, to move, to *do* something. Instead, she stood rooted to the spot, the anonymous card a mocking reminder of obligations she couldn't escape.