Gemotions

The thought of food made her nauseous. The kitchen, usually her sanctuary, now felt like a prison. She was putting on a backyard barbecue. She had bought the meat, the drinks, and the decorations, but the energy to cook and socialize had vanished. Her friend, Emily, was planning a more extravagant affair.

The sound of the doorbell startled her. She flinched, her body tensing. She forced herself to open the door, a polite smile plastered on her face.

It was the delivery of her party supplies. The boxes sat on the porch, a silent testament to her obligations. The sight of them made her feel worse. She closed the door, leaning back against it, her eyes closed.