Gemotions

The antique tea set, a wedding gift, sat untouched on the dining room table. A film of dust already collected on the delicate porcelain. She had loved this house, loved the idea of making it her own. Now, the quiet, the stillness, felt oppressive. She couldn’t bring herself to invite friends over; the thought of them sitting here, oblivious, made her physically ill. The sunlight streaming through the windows now seemed to highlight dust motes and shadows, reminding her of secrets the walls held. She wrapped her arms around herself, the cold seeping into her bones.