Gemotions

The morning sun streamed through the open window, warming Elara’s face. She stretched, a long, languid movement that felt delicious in her muscles. A smile played on her lips as she skipped into the kitchen, humming a tune she’d just made up. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and she poured herself a generous mug, then grabbed her keys. Today was the day she'd finally take that pottery class.

She bounced on the balls of her feet as she walked into the therapist's office. She paused, took a deep breath, and then walked into the waiting room. The receptionist smiled, "Dr. Harding will see you now." Elara nearly choked on her gum. *Harding*? Surely not *that* Harding. She was surprised that she was the one who was going to feel sick, not the therapist.