Gemotions

The weight of her childhood bedroom was crushing. Sarah stood in the doorway, hands clasped, surveying the space. Her old posters still adorned the walls, a relic of a younger, more carefree self. Each photograph, each forgotten trinket, reminded her of the distance she'd traveled, and the ground she’d lost.

Her mother knocked lightly, then entered, a hesitant smile on her face. "It's nice to have you home," she said. Sarah forced a smile in response, feeling the tension tighten her shoulders.

"I can help you unpack, if you'd like," her mother offered. The offer was generous, but Sarah felt a prickle of annoyance. She wanted to do this on her own, to reclaim some sense of control. "I’ll manage, thanks," she replied, her voice sharper than intended.