Gemotions

The aroma of burnt toast filled Maya’s small kitchen. She scraped the charred remains into the trash, the simple task demanding more energy than she possessed. The announcement had come as a shock. She was tired of the city’s constant hustle. Tired of the world.

She leaned against the counter, the cold surface offering little comfort. The thought of packing, of the cost of moving, of the sheer upheaval, sent a wave of nausea washing over her. She knew it was coming, but she still felt the sting of displacement.

She closed her eyes, seeking solace in the silence. But even then, the weight of the coming days pressed down on her.