Gemotions

The hydrangeas were a vibrant blue, a stark contrast to the faded floral wallpaper of the nursing home room. Sarah sat in her armchair, her gaze fixed on the blossoms. Her breath hitched. She had been at this place too long.

Her daughter had promised a visit, a rare promise unfulfilled. The flowers, she thought, were likely from the facility. Another generic gesture. She traced the lines on her palm, feeling the coldness of her own skin.

She shifted in her chair, a slight moan escaping her lips. The ache in her bones was relentless. The world had shrunk to the confines of this small room. She felt unseen, unheard, a forgotten echo. The vibrant blue flowers seemed to mock her existence.