Gemotions

The first night, she couldn’t sleep. The silence was deafening, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. It was the same clock that had marked time throughout her entire upbringing. She lay rigidly in her old bed, feeling like a stranger in her own skin.

Her old bedroom had been painted a different shade of pink. It had been repainted in a neutral colour. All the posters were gone, replaced by framed prints of generic landscapes. Her mother, Susan, had clearly put a lot of effort into making the room a guest room, not a former home of her now adult daughter.

She threw back the covers, restless. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had made a terrible mistake. She felt strangely trapped, like a bug under glass.