Gemotions

The key scraped in the lock. Sarah hadn't used her key in… well, a very long time. Stepping into the familiar foyer, the scent of potpourri and old carpeting hit her like a physical blow. She clutched her overflowing tote bag a little tighter. Her mother’s antique umbrella stand, usually a charming fixture, now seemed to leer at her.

"Sarah? Is that you?" Her mother’s voice, a little too loud, echoed from the kitchen. Sarah forced a smile onto her face. It felt brittle.

"Just me!" she called back, her voice tight. She shuffled forward, suddenly intensely interested in the dust bunnies gathering beneath the grandfather clock.

Her mother appeared, wiping her hands on a floral apron. "Oh, honey! You look… tired." The unspoken words hung in the air: *defeated*. Sarah couldn’t meet her gaze.