Gemotions

The floral wallpaper in the guest room seemed to mock Clara. She paced, the floorboards groaning under her weight, as she considered what she had to do. The house felt too small, too filled with the memories of a life she was trying to escape.

Her mother's gentle inquiries, her father's knowing glances, were like tiny needles pricking at her resolve. She wanted to scream, to shatter the fragile peace of the house and the lives they had built within it.

She ran a hand through her hair, needing to escape. Then she heard her father call from downstairs, "Clara, have you decided when you'll start looking for a job?" The question was a low blow, and she froze for a moment, unable to breathe.