Gemotions

“Well, aren’t you going to say something?” Amelia’s brother, Ben, asked from the doorway, his voice edged with impatience. The boxes loomed around them, filled with their grandmother’s belongings. Amelia stared blankly at a chipped teacup, turning it slowly in her hands.

The sunlight streaming through the window seemed to highlight the cobwebs and the accumulated grime. She felt a profound weariness, a bone-deep fatigue that seeped into her very marrow.

She just wanted to be alone, to disappear into the quiet of the empty house, but Ben's presence was a tether. She mumbled something about it being a lot of work. He rolled his eyes, which was the only reaction she could muster.

He started hauling boxes out into the garage, and Amelia continued to stare, the teacup a small, fragile vessel reflecting her own emptiness.