Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the farmer's market seemed to blur before Clara's eyes. She stared at the sign, “Delilah’s Sun-Kissed Tomato Sauce.” It was her grandmother's recipe, the one she'd lovingly taught a local celebrity chef at a charity event.

She leaned against a stall, the rough wood digging into her back. The energy had deserted her, leaving her feeling brittle and fragile. She couldn’t lift her head. Every breath seemed an effort.

A familiar voice called her name. It was her neighbor, offering a plate of cookies. Clara couldn't even manage a smile. The weight of her circumstances had solidified into a heavy, immovable object.