Gemotions

The key scraped in the lock, a sound that sliced through the quiet of the evening. Sarah pushed the door open, suitcase bumping against her leg. The house smelled exactly as she remembered: lemon-scented cleaner, old books, and something vaguely floral that had always been her mother's signature. A wave of dizziness washed over her. It had been five years.

She found her mother in the kitchen, humming and stirring something in a pot. “Sarah! You’re here!” Her mother enveloped her in a hug, a little too tight, a little too long. “Dinner’s almost ready. Your room is just how you left it.”

Sarah managed a weak smile. Her room. Five years. She pictured the floral curtains, the chipped desk, the shelf still bearing the remnants of a life she’d thought she’d outgrown. A knot formed in her stomach. What was she doing?