Gemotions

The first thing Claire noticed was the dust. It coated everything, a fine, grey film on the furniture in her childhood home. She ran a finger along the mantelpiece, the gesture a nervous tic. Her fingers were shaking. Dust was everywhere, just like the feeling of emptiness that followed her around.

Her mother fussed over her, offering tea and sympathy. Claire couldn't meet her eyes. The house felt like a museum of a life she couldn't reclaim.

She wandered through the living room, touching the familiar objects. The piano, silent now. The worn leather armchair where her father used to sit. The pictures, all smiles and happiness, mocking her current state. She wanted to scream. She pressed her lips together, her jaw clenched.