Gemotions

The tiny, cramped apartment felt suffocating. The noise of the city, which had once energized Clara, now grated on her nerves. She missed the quiet of her childhood home, the comfort of her mother’s cooking. She missed…everything.

Her mother, Sarah, was in the kitchen, humming softly as she chopped vegetables. The familiar rhythm of the knife on the cutting board soothed Clara's frayed nerves. The smell of rosemary and garlic filled the air. Seeing the joy, however small, in her mother’s face, Clara felt a powerful urge to protect it.

“You're making my favorite,” Clara mumbled, feeling a lump form in her throat.

Sarah turned, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Of course, dear. You must be famished.” She ruffled Clara’s hair, a gesture that used to irritate her, but now, filled her with a feeling of inexplicable comfort. Clara saw the unspoken question in her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was worried, but also trying to give her space. The warmth of the room enveloped her, and Clara's shoulders relaxed a fraction.