Gemotions

The email arrived late, blinking insistently in the pre-dawn glow of her laptop screen. Sarah stared at the subject line: “My deepest apologies.” It was from her ex-best friend, a woman she hadn’t spoken to since they were teenagers. A wave of nausea washed over her. She knew, instantly, what it was about. She hated it. She hated everything.

She was so close to finishing the renovation, to finally being comfortable. Now her small, cluttered apartment felt like an iron cage. Every brushstroke, every carefully chosen piece of furniture, designed to create a sense of belonging, now felt like a desperate attempt to create a barrier. She closed her eyes.

Her throat tightened. Each breath was shallow. What had once felt like freedom, to be away from it all, now felt like a curse. The walls of the house seemed to press inward, the air growing thick and stagnant. She felt as though she couldn't move, as though she couldn't breath.