Gemotions

The realtor’s words, a polite flurry of condolences and assurances, seemed to bounce off Maya. They had no purchase. The sky was the same blue it had always been, the sun’s warmth the same. Yet, everything felt… wrong. She felt detached, as if her consciousness had floated a few feet above her body, observing the scene. Her gaze flitted from the chipped window frames to the overgrown garden, each detail a stab of recognition and loss. “It’s... it's just happening," she finally managed to choke out.