Gemotions

The constant sound of her father's television, a low, droning hum, drove her to distraction. She wished she could turn it off, silence the endless chatter. The house felt like a cage.

She avoided eye contact with her mother at dinner, her gaze fixed on her plate, the mashed potatoes a bland, unappetizing mountain. The forced conversation, the polite inquiries, felt like an interrogation.

Later, she retreated to her childhood bedroom, the familiar space feeling alien and constricting. She closed the door with a loud thud, the sound reverberating through the silent house.