Gemotions

“Damn it,” she muttered, kicking at the gravel. Her car, the only thing she owned, was gone. Towed. A flashing yellow warning label sealed her fate: unpaid parking tickets.

She had spent all her money on takeout and cheap wine. A familiar ache settled in her stomach. She hadn't been to the grocery store in weeks. The simple tasks, like cooking a meal or doing laundry, felt impossible.

She slumped onto the curb, the sun beating down on her face. Her body felt heavy, her thoughts sluggish. The world seemed to be turning without her, and she felt like a discarded piece of trash, left on the side of the road.