Gemotions

The coffee cup shook in Clara’s hands, the lukewarm liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. It was a stupid little thing to fixate on, but her inability to steady her hand felt symbolic of everything. She’d poured her heart, her very soul, into that op-ed piece. And now? *By Marcus Blackwood.* She was just… nothing.

She wanted to scream, to shatter the delicate composure she’d spent years cultivating. Instead, she just sipped the coffee, the bitterness doing little to cut through the swirling despair. The cafe buzz felt loud and invasive, amplifying her sense of isolation. She felt exposed, stripped bare for the world to see, yet completely unseen.