Gemotions

The drive back to her parents’ house had been a blur. Now, unpacking her things felt like a Sisyphean task. Each item, a memory of a life she no longer had, a life she’d lost.

She sat on the edge of her bed, surrounded by boxes and half-unpacked clothes. The walls of her childhood room seemed to close in around her. The faded posters, the familiar furniture – they were all reminders of a time she couldn’t revisit, a person she no longer was.

She could hear her mother in the kitchen, humming a cheerful tune. She dreaded the inevitable conversation, the forced cheerfulness.