Gemotions

The floral arrangements, fragrant and elaborate, seemed to press in on Clara. The scent, normally a comfort, now felt cloying and suffocating. She felt small, insignificant, lost among the towering lilies and roses.

She’d spent the last week battling waves of fatigue. Sleep offered no escape. Her dreams were filled with swirling, shapeless anxieties. The thought of standing before everyone, of speaking words that mattered, felt like an insurmountable obstacle.

She pushed at a stray strand of hair, the gesture clumsy and aimless. She imagined the way her father would look at her, with that familiar, patient smile. She closed her eyes.