Gemotions

Sarah slammed the car door a bit harder than necessary. Her father, standing on the porch, flinched. She watched him, arms crossed, as he gestured her inside. The house, after a year away, seemed smaller, the air stale. It was as if her entire life was now reduced to a series of awkward greetings and forced smiles. Inside, the living room felt cold, the floral wallpaper staring back at her. "Dinner's ready," her mother announced, her voice too bright. Sarah mumbled an assent, her throat suddenly dry. The carefully constructed facade of a happy family felt like a suffocating blanket.