Gemotions

The card sat on the kitchen counter, mocking her. Emily meticulously sliced a tomato, her movements sharper, faster than usual. She kept glancing at the envelope, its crisp edges a contrast to the chaos of the room. The air in her kitchen felt thick, heavy, as though the walls were closing in.

She remembered the way she’d felt when she was in high school. The insecurities, the fears, the constant yearning for approval. She didn't want to go back there. She didn't want to feel that way again. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel, the rough fabric scratching her skin.

She turned off the music, the silence amplifying the thrumming in her ears. She felt a strange tingling in her fingertips. She leaned against the counter, her legs suddenly weak. She felt a deep, instinctive aversion to everything around her.