Gemotions

The familiar scent of wood polish and lavender hit Maya the moment she stepped inside her childhood home. Her throat tightened. She hated the house, yet it was the only place she could think of to go. The neatly arranged furniture, the framed family photos on the hallway table – each one felt like a jab, a reminder.

She dropped her bag in the entryway. The silence inside was oppressive. Her sister's old bedroom was the first place she found herself going. The pink walls looked too cheerful. She sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking beneath her weight. It had been his favorite bed.

A sob escaped her, unbidden. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to contain the tremors that racked her body. Every memory, every shared joke, every lingering touch, felt like a fresh wound.