Gemotions

The chipped teacup felt heavy in her hand. Sarah sat on the porch swing of the inherited house, the gentle rocking motion a monotonous comfort. Her brother, Mark, was inside, rifling through the attic, his excited chatter floating through the open window. She didn't have much to say on the matter.

She sipped her tea, the lukewarm liquid doing nothing to stir any feelings. Her grandmother had been… someone. A presence. Now, the house stood as a monument to her absence. Sarah was left feeling… neutral.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues. Sarah watched the colors bleed into the dusk. The colors were pretty, she supposed, a nice spectacle. She took another sip of tea.