Gemotions

The scent of her mother's lavender soap, usually a comfort, now felt charged. Every morning, Sarah found herself lingering in the hallway, pretending to water the philodendron, just to catch a glimpse of her. She’d always loved her mother’s smile, but lately, the way it crinkled around her eyes, the way she tilted her head when listening, sent a jolt through her. It was ridiculous, of course. She was thirty-two, not some lovesick teenager. Yet, the simple act of her mother offering a cup of tea made her heart thump erratically.

Her hands shook slightly as she helped set the table for dinner. Even the clinking of the cutlery seemed loud in the sudden, electric silence that had settled in the kitchen. She avoided her father’s gaze, knowing he’d see right through her. He always did.

When her mother laughed at something her father said, a wave of… something… washed over her. She excused herself, claiming a sudden headache, and retreated to her old bedroom. The floral wallpaper, once a source of irritation, now felt like a secret, familiar embrace.