Gemotions

The small apartment, once brimming with her vibrant personality, now felt like a prison cell, reduced to a collection of things. I felt the familiar ache in my temples as I woke up, the darkness outside the window mirroring the darkness I felt within. The smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen drifted up the stairs, and I hesitated before moving.

My mother’s voice, full of concern, broke through my stupor. "Are you feeling alright, dear?" The question felt like an accusation, like she knew. I forced a smile and went downstairs, but the food didn’t have any flavor. The conversation was stilted, a series of polite exchanges that felt like a performance.

Later, I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the television. Each channel offered a glimpse of the life I felt I was missing, a life I didn't seem capable of reaching. The remote felt heavy in my hand, as if it contained the weight of all my frustrations.