Gemotions

The coffee shop was her refuge. The gentle hum of conversation, the warmth of the latte, the anonymity of the space, were all part of the act of self-soothing she had perfected. She was exhausted, worn down by the constant demands, the endless needs of everyone else.

She opened the book she had chosen, a collection of short stories, and a stiff, yellowed envelope fell out. Inside, a childish drawing of a house and a handwritten note from a child to their parent. The handwriting was messy, joyful. "I love you," it read.

Her jaw clenched, her eyes started to well. The simplistic affection of the note, the unadulterated joy, was a stark contrast to her own present situation, the emptiness she felt. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as the first tear splashed onto the table.