Gemotions

The old desk lamp cast an eerie glow on the letter. Her grandmother's handwriting was elegant, almost defiant, as she described her frustration. Amy's breathing felt shallow, as though she was struggling to take in enough oxygen.

The world seemed to sharpen, the colors bolder. Everything felt…wrong. She closed the letter, the paper crinkling in her grip. She walked to the window, the image of her reflection staring back.

She wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to hold herself together. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the disarray in her thoughts. The world was tilting on its axis.