Gemotions

The chipped mug slammed onto the counter. Sarah glared at the perfectly arranged fruit bowl, a still life of oranges and grapes she'd never once seen in her own apartment. It was *her* space now, she reminded herself. Or it was supposed to be. Her mother, bless her heart, acted like Sarah was a houseguest, not a resident.

"Oh, you want the corner spot, dear? That's fine! Just... I had already put the family photos there." Sarah’s jaw clenched. The corner was by the window, the only place with decent light for her painting. She knew her mother was trying to be sweet, but the implication — that Sarah's life was on display for her mother’s approval — sat like a stone in her stomach.

The gentle smile and the hand on her arm only made things worse. She backed away. "It's fine, Mom," she said, her voice tight, "I'll find somewhere else." She’d find a place to put her easel, even if it was in the hallway.