Gemotions

The silence in the kitchen was deafening, the only sounds the ticking of the grandfather clock and the rustle of the newspaper as her mother read. Maya’s breakfast sat untouched. It was a physical manifestation of her own turmoil, congealing on the plate.

The diary, her life's soundtrack from fifteen to seventeen, was out there. The raw details of her first love, the petty arguments with her friends, her secret dreams - all on display for public consumption. She felt a burning sensation in her stomach, a knot tightening with each passing second.

She couldn’t meet her mother’s gaze. She pushed her chair back from the table and fled to her room, slamming the door behind her.