Gemotions

The first thing Sarah did was throw herself onto the threadbare couch in the living room. It still held her grandmother's scent, a perfume she'd worn for decades. A wave of uncontrollable shuddering wracked her body.

Her brother, Michael, attempted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Her mouth was dry. She could barely breathe. The house itself seemed to be pressing in on her, the walls closing in.

Everywhere she looked, she saw reminders: the chipped teacup on the table, the faded photograph on the mantelpiece, her grandmother's knitting needles still resting in their wooden box. It was too much.

She wanted to smash something, anything, to break free from this crushing wave of grief and anxiety. She curled into a ball, drawing her knees to her chest.