Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a nuisance, felt like a warm embrace on Amelia’s face. She hummed as she gathered wildflowers from the overgrown garden, their vibrant colors a mirror to the joy blossoming inside her. The demolition crew would be arriving any hour, and with them, the end of the house. But today, the impending destruction held no shadow for her. Instead, a light energy filled her.

Each bloom she plucked felt like a miniature celebration, a whispered secret shared between her and the sturdy, unyielding home. She placed them, carefully, in a chipped porcelain vase she’d found in the dusty attic, the air perfumed with the scent of dried lavender and forgotten memories.

"This is the last time," she murmured to the empty rooms, a soft smile curving her lips. Her heart felt as light as the petals in her hand.