Gemotions

The stairs felt like a mountain. Each step was a burden. Sarah dragged her suitcase, the wheels bumping against the worn wooden risers. The house, once a haven, now felt like a stage, and she the unwilling actress.

Her old bedroom, still adorned with posters of bands she'd outgrown, was a mausoleum of memories. Empty. Hollow.

Later, at dinner, the silence felt thick, heavy. Her father, usually a font of terrible jokes, was subdued. Her mother kept touching her arm, her eyes filled with unspoken questions. Sarah just picked at her food, the flavors bland, the conversation stilted. She wished for a cave to crawl into.