Gemotions

The thought of her grandfather's war medals going to a stranger made Eleanor's stomach churn. Her uncle, desperate for money, was willing to part with them. He had called, his voice tight, offering the news.

She sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak a hollow counterpoint to her internal turmoil. The summer air felt heavy, oppressive. The vibrant flowers in the garden seemed to mock her indifference.

She remembered her grandfather’s stories, the bravery, the sacrifice. Those medals were proof. Now, they were going to be sold.

She wished she could rewind time, hold onto the past just a little bit longer. The present felt flat, a vast, featureless plain. She stared into the distance.