Gemotions

The old man’s house was empty, the furniture shrouded in white sheets. A single, typed letter lay on the kitchen table: “New chapter. Good luck with the house.” She crumpled the letter in her hand. She’d spent countless hours here, helping him with his renovations, listening to his stories, dreaming of their shared future. Now, he was gone.

She wanted to scream, to smash something, to tear the sheets from the furniture. Instead, she stood perfectly still, the silence of the house pressing down on her. The betrayal was palpable.

She felt her jaw tighten. She would sell the house. She would make sure he would regret this.