Gemotions

"Did you take your medication, sweetie?" The question, delivered with unwavering concern, hung in the air like a suffocating blanket. Laura avoided her mother's gaze, staring instead at the chipped paint on the kitchen table.

Her mother's gentle reminders, the gentle hovering, were wearing her thin. She was an adult. She was capable. But living here, she felt like a child again, forever in need of supervision.

A sharp, almost animalistic noise escaped her, somewhere between a sigh and a growl. She abruptly stood up from the table, pushing her chair back with a scrape against the linoleum. "I'm going to my room," she said, her voice strained. The weight of it all was crushing her.