Gemotions

"See the Northern Lights." The words blurred through a haze of unshed tears. Sarah traced them with a trembling finger, her stomach twisting. Her mother had died three months ago, leaving behind a void so vast it threatened to swallow her whole.

The house felt too big, too empty. Every object, every photograph, was a fresh wave of pain. She felt a dull throb behind her eyes. Her mother had always been the adventurous one, the dreamer. And she, Sarah, had always been the practical one, the caretaker.

She wandered aimlessly through the living room, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the piano. Her mother had wanted her to play, to embrace the joy. A wave of regret washed over her, a deep and bitter current.