Gemotions

"Well, this is just peachy," Amelia muttered, shoving a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The wallpaper peeled in long, sickly yellow strips, and the air hung heavy with the scent of dried flowers and regret. Her brother, Thomas, hadn't even bothered to show up yet. Typical.

She stalked through the living room, her jaw clenched. The chipped porcelain dolls on the mantelpiece seemed to leer at her, mocking her with their vacant eyes. She imagined throwing them across the room, shattering them into a million tiny, useless pieces.

A vein throbbed in her temple. This wasn't supposed to be her life. She’d worked so hard. Now, this dilapidated shack was hers.