Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Amelia's mouth. She slumped against the kitchen counter, the ceramic cold against her cheek. Another day, another mountain of emails, another client demanding the impossible. The rhythmic thudding from next door, a new demolition project, was already vibrating through the floorboards. *Just breathe,* she told herself, forcing a deep inhale. The air held the scent of sawdust and fresh-cut lumber, a fragrance that usually filled her with a sense of possibility, but today it just added to the pressure in her chest.

Amelia dragged herself back upstairs, the weight of the day pressing on her shoulders. She looked at the unfinished puzzle on the coffee table. It was supposed to be a relaxing activity, but the pieces felt like tiny, mocking reminders of the projects she'd put off and then left undone. She sighed and started sorting the pieces, hoping the concentration might help.