Gemotions

The house echoed with the silence. No music, no laughter, no clatter of dishes – only the hum of the refrigerator. Elias wandered through the living room, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Every object, every piece of furniture, triggered a fresh wave of that gnawing, internal emptiness.

He picked up a small, wooden carving, a gift from his grandmother. He ran his thumb across its smooth surface, a familiar comfort. He remembered her laugh, the way she used to tell stories. He missed it so much.

He set the carving down with a sigh. His throat ached. The world seemed to have lost its color, become a series of muted tones. He felt like he was wading through a thick, invisible fog.