Gemotions

The U-Haul rattled, a discordant symphony against the quiet suburban street. Sarah stared out the window, each passing house a judgment. Her carefully curated life, the apartment she loved, the job she thought was hers, all reduced to a truckload of belongings and a hollow ache in her chest. She couldn't look her mother in the eye as they unloaded boxes, her throat too tight, her voice too shaky to even offer a simple "thanks."

She spent the first few days mostly in her old bedroom, curtains drawn, the familiar floral wallpaper mocking her. Every creak of the floorboards, every whispered conversation from downstairs, amplified the echoing emptiness inside her. She barely ate, pushing food around her plate, the taste of nothing a constant companion.

Her mother knocked, a soft rap on the door. "Can I come in, sweetie?" Sarah mumbled a hesitant assent, her voice barely audible. Her mother entered, carrying a cup of tea. Sarah didn’t look up, just watched the dust motes dance in the shaft of sunlight slicing across the room.