Gemotions

"I need to sell it," her mother had said, her voice unusually flat. The words hung in the air, heavy and poisonous.

Lila sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the embroidered quilt. Her grandmother had spent years stitching it, filling each square with love and care. Every thread was a memory, every color a piece of her grandmother's personality.

She felt a hollowness spreading through her, a void where warmth used to be. The colors of the quilt blurred, and she blinked, feeling the sting of unshed tears behind her eyelids.