Gemotions

The old house creaked around her, a symphony of forgotten memories. Each sound echoed her internal weariness. The scent of her mother's perfume, a scent she had grown to detest, hung heavy in the air. She couldn't focus on anything. The demands of the day, both big and small, were like a vise around her chest. Her father’s voice, asking if she wanted to play a game, felt like an accusation. She knew she should say yes, she knew she should care, but the thought of it seemed impossible.