Gemotions

The silence of the house was oppressive. Amelia walked from room to room, touching everything. Her fingers lingered on the worn velvet of the armchair, the chipped edges of the teacups in the cabinet. Her brother, Ben, was efficient, making lists, discussing the sale of the property. She couldn't focus. She found herself repeatedly returning to the garden, where her grandmother had spent hours tending roses. The vibrant colors of the blooms seemed to mock her. She bent to smell one, finding the scent now cloying, almost too much to bear. A sob escaped her, unbidden.