Gemotions

"I'll be late," she said, her voice clipped, as she grabbed her keys. Her father, seated at the breakfast table, raised an eyebrow. He knows. He always knows.

She hurried out the door, the cool morning air a welcome shock to her system. A knot of anticipation and unease tightened in her chest.

She didn't come home that night. She left her phone in her old bedroom, a silent act of defiance she knew would worry her parents sick. The next morning, as she entered the house, she found them, waiting silently.