Gemotions

The chipped mug slammed onto the kitchen counter, nearly sending a cascade of lukewarm coffee onto the floral wallpaper. Sarah stalked past her mother, who was humming cheerfully by the sink, completely oblivious. It was always like this. Her mother’s infuriating optimism, a constant, grating presence.

The hallway felt narrow, the air thick with the scent of potpourri and judgement. Sarah kicked her shoes off at the end of it, the impact reverberating through the thin walls. The spare room, her old room, still smelled faintly of teenage angst and stale pizza. She hated it. Hated everything.

“Dinner in fifteen minutes, dear!” her mother chirped from the kitchen. Sarah didn’t respond. She slumped onto the bed, the springs groaning in protest. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes to feign civility.