Gemotions

The old house, a photograph on her screen, felt miles away, like a planet in another galaxy. The feeling was a gentle embrace, a state of quiet acceptance. The pictures had a muted quality, as if she was watching them through a pane of frosted glass.

She looked at the images of the perfectly staged rooms, of the new paint job, of the pristine landscaping. Her heart didn't beat any faster. She didn't feel the need to call anyone, to discuss the past, or to plan a visit. She merely observed, as if from a distance, the unfolding drama of someone else’s life.

She made herself a cup of chamomile tea.