Gemotions

The phone rang, jolting Clara out of her daze. She let it ring a few times before finally picking up. It was her sister, wanting to chat. But Clara couldn't feign energy. The email from earlier was still fresh in her mind: "Chez Pierre – Final Service."

“...Yeah, just tired,” she mumbled into the phone, her voice flat. She could almost taste the rich chocolate mousse that they served at Chez Pierre.

She didn’t feel like talking. She felt like sinking into the couch and not moving for days.

She thought of the crisp white tablecloths, the clinking of champagne glasses, the hushed conversations. The world felt less vibrant, less appealing. She cut the call short.