Gemotions

"This can't be real," Maya muttered, the words barely audible. The articles, the photos of her younger self plastered all over social media, were a brutal reminder of a life she'd carefully archived. A deep ache settled in her chest, a constant pressure. She felt the slow creep of something else, a profound sense of inertia.

She’d spent the morning in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to move. Each notification, each mention, was a fresh wound. She felt a bone-deep weariness, a languid apathy.

She managed to force herself out of bed, but the simple act of making breakfast felt monumental. She crumbled a piece of toast absently, the taste of dry bread doing nothing to alleviate the hollowness inside.