Gemotions

“Isn’t it wonderful, darling?” Her mother beamed, pointing at the tapestry hanging in the hotel lobby. It was her tapestry, the one she’d woven for her bedroom. Now it was on display.

Elara’s smile felt brittle, as though it might crack at any moment. Her palms grew damp. She wanted to scream, to run. She’d explicitly told her mother it was personal, that it represented her healing.

She mumbled an agreement and turned away, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of her mother's admiration.