Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Amelia’s hands, but the heat didn’t seep into her. The kitchen, once a place of comfort, felt sterile and overwhelming. Her mother hummed a cheerful tune as she chopped vegetables, oblivious to the heavy silence that had settled on Amelia like a damp blanket. She hadn’t spoken much since moving back in, the words caught in her throat like a stubborn knot.

“Want some help, sweetie?” her mother asked, her voice bright. Amelia just shook her head, focusing on the swirling patterns in the coffee. Her reflection stared back, a stranger with shadowed eyes and a perpetually downturned mouth. Even the smell of the simmering stew failed to rouse any appetite.

She felt a hollowness, a vast emptiness that echoed within her chest. The apartment she’d left behind felt like a dream. Now, it was just the ticking of the clock, the incessant chirping of birds outside the window, and a world that seemed to be moving on without her.