Gemotions

The silence of the house was suffocating. Laura wandered from room to room, touching objects without really seeing them. The laundry was folded, the dishes were done, the house was immaculate and, as a result, felt utterly vacant. The phone offered no relief, no new messages, no calls.

She sank into the armchair in the living room, picking up a dusty box she had not opened in years. Inside, among old photos and forgotten trinkets, was a letter. The handwriting was hers, her youthful self, speaking of a yearning she’d never fully articulated, never acted on. She felt the dull ache behind her eyes, the echo of unlived moments.