Gemotions

The sheer volume of his mother's advice washed over Clara. "Make sure you eat breakfast, always wear a coat, don't forget to call," it was endless, and each sentence brought with it the crushing weight of her own inadequacy. She kept nodding, trying to look attentive, but the words blurred into a drone.

She stared out the window, watching the leaves of the ancient oak tree sway in the wind. She wanted to scream, to break free from the suffocating cocoon of her mother's concern, but she couldn’t. It was not her home. Not anymore.

She wanted to call her friends. But she couldn't. She was unable to face the pity.