Gemotions

The bustling coffee shop, a perk of her new position in public relations, usually exhilarated Maria. Today, however, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the chatter of customers did little to uplift her. She picked at the foam on her latte, a subtle tremor running through her arm.

She felt a gnawing anxiety, a persistent hum beneath the surface of her awareness. Before, she had enjoyed the quiet consistency of the library, the comforting weight of books. PR, on the other hand, demanded constant interaction, a constant need to be "on."

She listened to the conversations around her, each word a reminder of the chasm that lay between her new world and the one she'd lost. She felt a strong urge to simply walk out the door and never come back.