Gemotions

The envelope was plain, the handwriting unfamiliar. Inside, a card printed with a generic birthday message. It felt like a weight in her hand, as if someone had placed a stone in her palm. A wave of dizziness washed over her.

She was scheduled to be at a mandatory professional development seminar this afternoon. She'd already spent the morning cleaning her sister's house, a chore that felt more like a sentence than a favor. Her shoulders ached, not from the physical work, but from the constant, low-level tension that had become her constant companion.

She looked at the card, imagining the faces she'd have to endure, the conversations she'd have to feign interest in. She wanted to scream, to run, to disappear. But there was nowhere to go. There was only the endless cycle of expectations and obligations.