Gemotions

The sterile scent of antiseptic and over-processed food filled the cramped cafe. Maya felt the weight of her backpack press into her shoulders as she sat, watching the minutes tick by on the digital clock. The journey to the coast had been long and tiring. She was scheduled to arrive at the hospice in time for her grandmother’s birthday.

She picked at the corner of her sandwich, the food suddenly unappetizing. She felt a profound sense of futility, as if all her efforts had been for naught. The airport noises and general hustle and bustle felt like a distant, unpleasant backdrop to her internal struggle. She let out a long, slow breath.