Gemotions

The familiar scent of her mother's perfume, a sharp floral that always made Sarah's nose itch, hung heavy in the air. "Did you see that new dress Mrs. Henderson got?" her mother asked, holding a half-eaten biscuit. Sarah shrugged, her gaze fixed on the speckled pattern on the kitchen table. It was, as usual, a noncommittal response.

She’d spent the afternoon scrolling through social media, the endless stream of carefully curated lives washing over her like lukewarm water. The excitement, the drama, the joy, all of it seemed so far removed from her own experience. Her own life, the one she was currently inhabiting with her parents, was a quiet, steady state. She thought about her future, and it felt distant, as though she were watching it on a distant screen.