Gemotions

I sat on the cold floor of the basement, surrounded by the remnants of my grandmother’s life. Going through her things was a chore, a duty. A task to be done. I felt nothing, but I kept going, pushing through the boxes and the memories.

Then I found it: a small, tarnished silver frame holding a picture of my grandmother, younger than I'd ever seen her, with a man I didn't recognize. He was holding her hand, and they were smiling at each other in a way that felt wrong. Her smile was like a light from a forgotten sun.

The air in the basement seemed to thicken, making it difficult to breathe. The weight on my chest intensified, a crushing sensation that left me feeling hollowed out. I looked down at the floor, and felt nothing. The world was nothing.