Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash. Sarah glared at the phone, its screen reflecting her own grimace. The photos of her daughter, Chloe, posed with boys she didn't know, in outfits Sarah wouldn't be caught dead in. The captions were full of eye-rolling emojis and slang that sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

Sarah slammed the mug onto the kitchen counter, the ceramic clinking sharply. The whole thing made her stomach churn. Chloe had always been so… compliant. Now this. This festering, superficial thing. Sarah ran a hand through her hair, which suddenly felt heavy, as if weighed down by something invisible. The kitchen seemed smaller, stuffier, every single object mocking her.