Gemotions

The coffee shop buzzed with a frenetic energy that clanged against Sarah’s ears. She was supposed to be meeting a friend, but the anxiety had left her shaking, and she sat alone. Her phone lit up: "On my way! Need anything from the deli? - Mark." Mark was her therapist.

Her fingers fumbled, composing a reply to the wrong number: “I was hoping you could tell me how to matter.” The words hung in the air, a plea. She deleted it, mortified, but the sentiment lingered.

The barista called out a name, and Sarah realized she was the only one in the shop. She rose, walked up to get her drink, and turned and left it on the counter. She’d paid for it but couldn’t bring herself to drink it. The warmth of the beverage seemed like a burden, and she felt unable to carry it.