Gemotions

"So… how was work?" Her father's question hung in the air, a polite inquiry that felt like an interrogation. Sarah forced a smile, picking at the roast chicken on her plate.

She’d lost her job, her apartment, and her sense of self. Telling her parents had been the hardest thing she'd ever done. Now, the constant offers of help, the gentle concern in their voices, felt like a spotlight on her inadequacy.

She found herself avoiding eye contact, her responses clipped and short. She volunteered to do the dishes, anything to escape the scrutiny. The quiet hum of the dishwasher was the only thing that soothed her unraveling.

The thought of going to sleep in her childhood bed made her want to crawl into a hole.