Gemotions

The key, cold and metallic in her hand, felt like a burden. Evelyn stared at the house, a shell of its former self. The front door was ajar, a gaping maw. She felt a profound sense of violation.

She had been inside the house one last time, a week ago, but the memories had already felt like ghosts. Each room, each corner, held a story she could no longer access in its fullness. The emptiness inside the house echoed her own emptiness.

She dropped the key into the mailbox, the clink of metal against metal the last sound she'd ever make associated with this place. She then turned and walked away, her shoulders slumped, her pace slow.