Gemotions

The house seemed to absorb the light, leaving everything bathed in a muted gray. Evelyn felt a familiar ache as she stepped through the door. Her brother, Theodore, was already talking about renovations and potential buyers, his voice crisp and practical. She couldn't focus; her mind was elsewhere.

She remembered the scent of cinnamon and apples from her grandmother's kitchen, the feel of her soft, wrinkled hand in her own. The house was a repository of memories, filled with the echoes of shared moments. The thought of dismantling it filled her with a sense of dread.

She wandered into the living room, her gaze resting on the worn armchair where her grandmother used to sit. She paused, her hand hovering over the fabric, remembering her grandmother’s gentle touch. She bit her lip and thought of a way to preserve this time.