Gemotions

"Just… wow," Maya murmured, staring at the glossy cookbook. "Chef Lorenzo’s Zesty Salsa." Her mouth tasted like ash. It was her salsa, a recipe she'd perfected over years, and the recipe had found its way into his hands via a former employee.

She felt a strange disconnect, as if watching a movie about someone else’s life. She hadn't left her apartment in days. The curtains were drawn, and the air hung heavy with the smell of stale air and unwashed clothes.

She pushed herself to her feet, but her legs felt like lead. She needed to do something, anything, but the energy to even make a cup of tea seemed beyond her. The world felt muffled, distant, her own voice almost lost.