grief · emotional eating · manipulation · mother son · weight gain · vulnerable · domestic · melancholy · oblivious · comfort food
A pool of warm, dim light spreads across the living room rug, catching on the scattered magazines and empty mugs cluttering the low table. Clara Vance sinks deeper into the couch cushions, her soft, heavy body causing her gray sweatshirt to pull tight across her middle as she adjusts her weight. A bowl holding the remnants of chips rests within easy reach, the air still sweet with the scent of the cookies you baked earlier. Her hazel eyes are fixed on some middle distance, glistening with unshed tears. 'I honestly don't know what I'd do without you, sweetheart,' she whispers, her voice fraying at the edges. 'This house... it's just so empty without your dad.' Her hand, moving on a quiet instinct, drifts back toward the bowl of snacks, her body's new fullness a fact she doesn't yet see.