Gemotions

The advertisement for the house on Hemlock Lane blazed on her screen. She recognized the peeling paint on the front porch. A familiar emptiness washed over her, a deep and echoing hollowness. She felt the urge to cry, but the tears wouldn't come.

She remembered the laughter that used to fill those rooms, the warmth of shared meals. Now, it was just strangers moving in and out, not knowing the stories held within those walls. Her own apartment felt cold and unwelcoming.

She reached for a half-eaten container of ice cream in the freezer, the spoon clinking against the plastic. Each bite felt like a solitary act, a filling of a void that wouldn't ever truly be sated.