Gemotions

The dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight that pierced the gloom of the attic. She rummaged through old boxes, a fruitless search for something to alleviate the emptiness. The air was thick with the scent of forgotten things, a poignant reminder of time's relentless passage. She had no desire to carry on.

She unearthed a faded photograph. Sarah and her, arms wrapped around each other, beaming at the camera. A wave of nostalgia washed over her. She knew she had to see her. She had to try.

She located her at a local bookshop. "Sarah?" she called softly.

Sarah looked up, a hint of irritation in her eyes. "Yes?"

"It's me," she began. "We used to…" She stopped, the words catching in her throat.

Sarah stared. "I really don't know you." She turned her attention back to the book she was holding.

She found herself frozen in place, a silent statue of desolation.