Before I met you

The Flavour Of Grief

As the birds chirped and leaves rustled in harmony with the gentle breeze, Emily's eyes slowly opened, squinting at the brightness of the sun shining through her curtains. She gazed left and right, trying to recall how she fell asleep. Her knees felt numb, but she didn't mind; she had no intention of going anywhere. After lying in bed for what felt like an eternity, she finally summoned the courage to stand, driven by the discomfort of her full bladder. She watched as the water swirled down the toilet, feeling like she was trapped in a never-ending spiral. As she brushed her teeth, she stared at her reflection with utter resentment. Despite her captivating features - long brown hair, brown eyes, and lips that matched the tenderness of her heart - Emily's beauty was overshadowed by her inner turmoil.

With each step towards the kitchen, Emily felt as light as a feather, her legs barely able to support her. There, she met Gloria, the kind-hearted help who had been a constant presence since her mother's passing. After her mother's death, Emily was left in the care of her uncle, a vibrant bachelor who was uninterested in raising a child, let alone a grieving teenage girl. His life was scattered across the globe, and he had no desire to be tied down; so, he had made arrangements for Gloria to care for Emily.

Emily often wondered if her mom and uncle were truly siblings. It had been ten years since she last saw him, when she was just 7 years old. She vividly recalled the petty arguments they had, and a sigh escaped her lips as she remembered how he appeared briefly, made arrangements for her mother's funeral, and then vanished just as quickly.

Her wandering mind was brought back to reality by Gloria,who placed a warm stack of pancakes in front of her at the dining table. Emily had always had a soft spot for pancakes, and she knew Gloria's cooking was reliable. Yet, despite the enticing aroma, the first bite tasted surprisingly bland. She reached for the glass of orange juice beside her plate, only to find its flavor similarly uninspiring.

Emily couldn't finish a single pancake. Suddenly, she rushed to the bathroom, feeling nauseous and on the verge of vomiting. This was the third time this week she had experienced this unsettling sensation. Food had lost its flavor, and her stomach struggled to keep anything down.

As she headed back to her bedroom, Emily's gaze wandered down the corridor, and a memory of her mom suddenly flooded her mind. She let out a sigh and fought back a tear, forcing it back into her eye.