Gemotions

The key scraped in the lock, a sound that sliced through the quiet of the hallway. Amelia hadn't lived here in ten years. A tremor ran through her as she pushed the door open, the scent of potpourri and something else, something familiar and comforting, washed over her. Her shoulders hunched as she stepped inside, a heavy bag bumping against her leg.

Her mother appeared at the end of the hall, her face creased with a warm smile. “Amelia! You’re here!” But Amelia just managed a small, tight smile in return, the corners of her mouth twitching. The woman’s eyes darted down to the bag, then back to Amelia, and she saw the question there, unspoken.

“Let me take that, sweetie,” her mother offered, moving forward, but Amelia clutched the strap tighter, her knuckles white. She mumbled, “I got it,” her voice barely a whisper. The air felt thick, heavy with the unspoken past, and Amelia desperately wanted to escape the confines of this entryway.