Gemotions

The sunlight felt harsh on Clara's skin. She pulled the curtains closed, plunging her bedroom into a comforting gloom. The familiar scent of her childhood room – lavender air freshener and old books – did little to soothe her. She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, the patterns of the wallpaper blurring into meaningless shapes.

She’d spent the morning scrolling endlessly through social media, a painful parade of smiling faces and vibrant lives. Each post was a jab, a reminder of what she’d lost, what she lacked. A tear traced a path down her cheek, a silent testament to her overwhelming sense of defeat.

Her mother knocked gently on the door, then entered, placing a cup of tea on her bedside table. "Are you feeling any better, dear?" she asked softly. Clara simply shook her head, unable to meet her mother’s gaze.