Gemotions

The house felt too quiet, the absence echoing in the cavernous rooms. She sat on the floor, the list spread before her like a cruel joke. "Learn to speak Italian." Her mother, always the romantic.

She picked at a loose thread on the rug. The letters blurred slightly through unshed tears. Well, that's life, isn't it? Things die, and people disappear. What was the point of any of it? The thought brought no emotion, just a dull ache. She got up and made herself a cup of tea, the clinking of the ceramic cup a small, insignificant sound in the vast emptiness.