Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Amelia's hands, the weak tea barely registering on her tastebuds. She stared out the kitchen window at the manicured lawn, a landscape she'd once found comforting, now just...there. Her mother bustled around, humming a tune Amelia couldn't place, setting a plate of toast and scrambled eggs in front of her. "Eat up, sweetie," she chirped. Amelia nodded, picking at the food with a fork, the texture of the eggs strangely unappealing. "Fine," she mumbled, the word drifting out into the morning air.

Later that afternoon, the sunlight slanting across the dusty furniture in her old bedroom illuminated the sheer pointlessness of unpacking. A box lay open, spilling out college textbooks and faded photographs. She kicked it closed, the cardboard offering a surprisingly solid thud. The weight of the unopened suitcase on the floor mirrored the heaviness in her chest, a feeling she’d become accustomed to over the past several weeks.