Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Amelia's hands, but it did nothing to quell the chill seeping into her bones. She’d been staring at the sunset painting across the living room wall for an hour, the same sunset she'd watched a thousand times as a child. A silent sigh escaped her. It was the only sound she dared make. She should have called, she should have visited, she should have… everything. Her mother would be home soon.

Her father's slippers shuffled in the hallway as he emerged, a newspaper folded neatly under his arm. He stopped short when he saw her. "Evening, sweetie," he said, his voice softer than usual. He didn't ask her anything, just offered a slight nod before disappearing into his chair.

Amelia’s shoulders slumped. She hated the way she'd let them down, especially now. The silence in the house, once comforting, now felt heavy, each tick of the grandfather clock a judgment. She took a sip of her tea, the bitter taste a perfect match for the feeling twisting inside her.