Gemotions

The silence in the car was a tangible thing. Sarah sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, at the passing landscape. Her father drove, whistling tunelessly. He was, she knew, trying to appear nonchalant. She was not fooled. The forced cheeriness of his initial welcome, the way he kept glancing over at her, wanting to say something, anything, were all a little bit pathetic.

She'd lost her job, a humiliating defeat. And here she was, back home. She felt a familiar burn of shame. At dinner, he made small talk, asking about the job search. She gave terse answers, her focus elsewhere. She was going to make sure she was the first to leave, even if she had to walk. She would not be reliant on them.