Gemotions

The house looked alien now, stripped of its familiar curtains and furniture. The windows were empty sockets. Clara felt a strange disconnect, as if she were viewing a stranger’s life. The sight of it spurred a sharp, bitter wave of nausea.

She walked around the perimeter of the property, tracing the outline with a gloved hand. Her mother's flowerbeds were overgrown, wild, neglected. It felt like she was touching a tomb. Her lips were pressed together tightly.

She thought of the countless hours she had spent in the garden, helping her mother plant bulbs and tend the roses. The laughter, the shared moments of joy, now felt like distant echoes. She left with a feeling of hollowness, as if something vital had been surgically removed.