Gemotions

The house stood silent, its windows like vacant eyes. I walked through the rooms, the floorboards creaking beneath my weight, each step an unwanted effort. The air was stale, thick with the ghosts of laughter and argument. The smell of my mother's perfume still lingered. It made me feel… empty.

The kitchen was where she spent most of her time. I went there and stood by the stove. It was cold. I stared at the counter, remembering all the meals. I felt the urge to do something, anything, to distract myself from this slow, agonizing dissolution. I had no idea what that something might be.