Gemotions

"No," whispered Sarah, the word catching in her throat. She crumpled the letter, the paper crackling like a death knell. She dropped it to the floor. The apartment seemed different, the familiar clutter suddenly menacing.

The walls pressed close. She could feel the blood thrumming in her ears. Each object – the worn sofa, the chipped teacup – suddenly seemed heavy with judgment, each echoing a silent condemnation. She felt a burning sensation in her eyes, a prelude to tears.

Her legs felt like lead. She slumped onto the floor, the cold linoleum offering no comfort. The world narrowed, the confines of her small apartment became the entirety of her world. She felt a tightening in her chest, a physical restriction.