Gemotions

She watched Emily sort through her closet, pulling out clothes and tossing them onto a growing pile destined for the donation bin. The whole scene felt like a personal insult. How could Emily, so casually, be discarding years of shared memories, of inside jokes embodied in a favorite t-shirt, a concert souvenir? It was as if their history meant nothing.

The air in the room was stale, thick with the scent of lavender from Emily's scented drawer liners. She sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. Emily was chattering about the new apartment, the exciting opportunities, the vibrant city she was about to embrace.

"Well," she said, her voice strained, "I hope you have fun." The words felt brittle, like ice. She couldn't bring herself to meet Emily's gaze. The idea of attending Emily's going-away party was already making her feel ill.