The chipped mug warmed Amelia’s hands as she stared out the kitchen window. Rain streaked the glass, blurring the familiar houses across the street into watercolor smudges. She hadn't realized how quickly the neighborhood had changed, how much the trees had grown. It was only six months since she’d left, but it felt like a lifetime. The silence in the house, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator, pressed down on her.
Her mother, bless her heart, had tried to make her favorite lemon poppy seed muffins. Amelia hadn't touched them. A tight knot settled in her stomach just thinking about food. "You okay, honey?" her mother asked gently, her voice echoing in the too-large kitchen. Amelia just nodded, unable to meet her gaze.
Later, curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that still smelled faintly of her father's cologne, she scrolled endlessly through social media. Each perfectly curated photo, each smiling face, felt like a small, sharp jab. Her thumb hovered over the ‘unfollow’ button on an ex-colleague's page. She closed her eyes, and the sound of silence was the loudest noise imaginable.