Gemotions

The plate of spaghetti sat untouched, congealing in the dim light of the kitchen. Her mother kept glancing over, concern etched on her face. "Are you not hungry, honey?" she asked softly. Sarah just shrugged, the simple gesture containing volumes of unspoken resentment. The news of her demotion had landed like a punch to the gut.

She fiddled with a fork, pushing the pasta around. The vibrant red sauce, usually so appealing, now seemed dull and unappetizing. The house felt too warm, too close. She wished she could disappear, melt away into the shadows. The words "better options" from her coach felt like an accusation, a judgment.