Gemotions

The photograph of the house, pristine and perfect, felt like a slap in the face. It was the same address, the same peeling paint on the front porch she remembered from her youth, but it didn't feel like *her* house anymore. For months, Olivia had neglected herself. The empty coffee cups on her desk and the dirty clothes piled on her chair were evidence of that.

She’d lost track of time, of days, of any sense of purpose. Her once-vibrant apartment was now a chaotic mess. The joy she used to derive from creating art had vanished. Now, the canvas and brushes sat gathering dust.

She felt an overwhelming hollowness, a deep void within her. She scrolled through the listing, the descriptions of the house's features grating on her. The glossy presentation made her feel worse than she already did. The thought of going outside was overwhelming.