Gemotions

The drive to the hotel felt like a slow march toward the gallows. She’d argued with her sister about what to wear, a small fight that felt huge and encompassing in the moment. Each word and action felt like a burden.

She sat at the table, picking at a bread roll, unable to bring herself to eat. The room was noisy, a cacophony of laughter and congratulations. Each time she saw a loved one, a new wave of exhaustion hit her.

When her turn came to speak, she stood, her legs trembling. She swallowed hard, then forced a smile, the muscles in her face aching from the effort.