Gemotions

The chipped porcelain doll, a gift from her late mother, was being offered for sale by her sister, Emily. Maya felt a sharp pang, a physical ache in her chest.

She observed Emily carefully, noting the way her knuckles were white as she clutched a picture of the doll from when she was a child. The sunlight glinting off the tears gathering in her eyes.

Maya thought of their mother, of the countless tea parties they had held with the doll, of the way it represented their shared childhood.

“I know it must be difficult,” Maya began, her voice trembling slightly. The words caught in her throat. She knew the pain was far deeper than words could convey.