Gemotions

The small, cramped bedroom felt more like a prison cell than a sanctuary. The posters of bands she'd outgrown, the stuffed animals that had been her friends, the bedspread she'd chosen when she was twelve. All of it served as a monument to a past self, a younger version of her full of optimism.

She stared out the window, watching the neighborhood kids play. She should be climbing the corporate ladder, traveling the world, starting a family. Instead, here she was, the prodigal daughter, the disappointment. A bitter taste coated her tongue. The thought of facing another day, another conversation, another reminder of her failure, made her stomach churn.