Gemotions

The listing's headline blazed across her screen: "Charming Family Home - Perfect for You!" She nearly spat out her tea. Perfect? For whom? Not for her. She knew that home. She had known the details of that home. It was no longer hers. A bitter taste coated her tongue. She grabbed a biscuit, her fingers fumbling with the wrapper.

She sat, unmoving, the screen's light illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. The tiny studio apartment, usually a haven, now felt confining, suffocating. She felt a phantom weight on her shoulders, the pressure of expectations and obligations she could never seem to shake. The feeling that she needed someone to tell her it was okay, that she had done enough.

She took a huge bite of the biscuit. The crunch did nothing to alleviate the tension in her jaw. She wished she could talk to someone, anyone. The feeling of not being able to cope was crushing.