Gemotions

The key felt slippery in Maya’s hand. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry, that she’d be strong. But the reality of the situation, the skeletal remains of the house, were far more potent than her resolve. Her stomach churned. It felt as if a heavy weight pressed down on her chest, making it hard to draw a deep breath.

She approached the crumbling doorway. The paint was peeling, revealing the wood beneath. Her hand hovered over the doorknob for what seemed like an eternity. Each step inside felt heavier than the last, her shoes crunching on broken glass and debris. The air inside smelled stale and musty, like a tomb.

She had to get out, but her feet felt rooted to the ground. Images flashed before her eyes: birthday parties, first dates, family dinners. She could almost hear her mother’s laughter echoing through the empty rooms. The thought of losing these tangible connections, these echoes of the past, was almost unbearable.