As Clara sat at the dining table, the remnants of her overindulgent dinner weighed heavily on her stomach. The rich gravy and buttery mashed potatoes, once a delight, now turned against her, twisting her insides in a relentless grip. She grimaced, pressing a hand against her abdomen in a futile attempt to quell the discomfort. The warm flicker of the candles cast a soft glow around the room, yet it did little to alleviate the gnawing ache.

"Just a bit too much pie, I suppose," she muttered, a wry smile tugging at her lips despite the unease. As she sipped a cup of peppermint tea, she hoped the gentle infusion might settle her restless stomach. All around her, the sounds of laughter and clinking cutlery continued, but in that moment, she found herself trapped in a conversation of her own body, one that was pleading for moderation and a touch of kindness.