Gemotions

"Is this the one?" her mother had asked, eyeing the slightly shabby armchair in the living room. Sarah hadn't answered, just sunk into its worn cushions. The fabric felt soft against her skin, a familiar embrace.

Later, she found herself laughing at her father's terrible jokes, really *laughing*, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. She helped him in the garden, feeling the earth beneath her nails, and the sun on her face.

That evening, curled up on the couch with a blanket and a cup of tea, she realised something: the knot in her shoulders was gone. She felt…lighter, unburdened. The quiet hum of the house, the gentle rhythm of her parents' lives, soothed her.