Gemotions

The realtor's words echoed in Eleanor's ears: "Charming Victorian, full of character!" She'd adored the house the moment she saw it, with its wraparound porch and stained-glass windows. That afternoon, the attic yielded a forgotten box of old newspapers. One headline screamed of a robbery, a missing woman, and a home address—hers. Her stomach churned.

She found herself, later that evening, baking an extra pie. Her neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was alone now that her husband had passed and had seemed withdrawn. She wrapped the pie with extra care, a handwritten note attached. “Thinking of you.” The walk to Mrs. Gable's was slow, each step measured. She felt a lightness, the house no longer felt so heavy with its past.