Gemotions

The apartment was a mess, reflecting the chaos inside her. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, laundry overflowed from the hamper, and dust motes danced in the slivers of sunlight that managed to pierce the grime-covered windows. Each mess, each missed appointment, was a testament to the fact that she was becoming nothing.

She hated looking in the mirror. She knew the haggard face, the lifeless eyes. The constant fatigue, the crushing anxiety, they were the price of her broken body. She’d stopped going out, stopped seeing anyone. The only comfort was the numbing predictability of her daily cycle.

Then, the doorbell rang. She considered ignoring it. But it persisted, a jarring intrusion. Through the peephole, she saw a woman clutching her chest, looking ashen. A wave of dizziness nearly dropped her.

"Help me," the woman gasped. "I… I think I’m having an episode."

And somehow, the weight lifted, even just for a moment, as she opened the door.