Gemotions

"Dinner's ready!" his father's voice boomed from downstairs. Maya ignored it, scrolling through job postings on her laptop. The internet connection in her old bedroom, however, was as sluggish as the career prospects she was currently chasing.

A pounding on her door made her jump. "Are you coming down, or am I going to have to bring your plate up here?" It was her mother. Maya felt a muscle in her jaw clench.

She hated the feeling of being supervised, of having her life dictated. The floral curtains she'd picked out as a teenager now screamed "childish". Every bite she took felt like a concession.