Gemotions

The old woman sat on a nearby bench, shoulders slumped, head bowed. She kept her eyes glued to the scene, as if mesmerized by a serpent. Maria’s breath hitched. Her knuckles, gnarled with age, were twisted together so tightly they looked white. She remembered all the laughter, the holidays, the whispered conversations and the scent of freshly brewed coffee. The home, the foundation of her world, was about to be reduced to nothing. She felt a profound emptiness, a void that threatened to swallow her whole.