Gemotions

"You okay, honey?" Her mother's question, soft and concerned, felt like an accusation. Sarah busied herself with the dishes, scrubbing until her knuckles were raw. Everything, even the mundane act of washing plates, felt like a battle.

Her father, oblivious, started talking about the garden. The meticulous rows of vegetables, his pride and joy, felt like another source of irritation. He seemed so… happy.

Later, she sat on the porch, the twilight air cool against her skin. The crickets’ incessant chirping grated on her nerves. She wanted silence, complete and utter silence.