Gemotions

The late afternoon light filtered through the blinds, casting stripes across the floor of the apartment. Clara stared at the website, the words of her essay, detailing her experiences as an immigrant, leaping off the page. A tremor ran through her body, a wave of unease that left her feeling chilled. Her chest felt constricted, as if a vise was slowly tightening.

She walked to the window, the movement deliberate and slow, and stared out at the street. She had to ensure her story was safe, that the people around her would not use it against her. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, seeking a moment of clarity.