Gemotions

The cardboard boxes stacked in the living room felt like a physical weight on Sarah’s chest. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, a visual representation of her uprooted life. Her father had moved her things here, her parents' house, while she was at the job interview that went south.

She walked into the kitchen, where her dad was hunched over the table, meticulously assembling a model ship. The tiny pieces looked fiddly and intricate. He didn't look up, but she knew he heard her.

“Need a hand, Dad?” she asked, even though she knew he’d rather work alone. The silence stretched, a fragile thing that could crack under the slightest pressure. Finally, he shook his head. "Just taking my mind off things." He gestured towards the ship with a pair of tweezers.

She knew what "things" meant. She picked up a box cutter and started slicing through the tape on one of her boxes. Her hand trembled slightly as she pulled out a framed photo of herself, and her ex, at the beach. She placed it face down on the table.