Gemotions

The drive home was quiet. Maria listened to the radio, the upbeat music grating on her nerves. The car felt small, confining. She stared out the window, watching the landscape blur past. Each familiar landmark – the park, the grocery store, the houses with their lit windows – seemed to mock her.

She pulled into the driveway, killed the engine, and just sat there. The engine ticked as it cooled. The silence in the car was thick, heavy. She leaned her head against the steering wheel, her breath catching in her throat. She didn't want to go inside, didn’t want to face the pitying looks and the hushed concern.