Gemotions

The air in the apartment felt thick and heavy, the scent of lavender and lilies clinging to everything. She traced the outlines of the familiar furniture, the echoes of her mother’s laughter seeming to mock her solitude. She felt adrift, lost in a sea of memories.

She discovered the boxes in the back of a closet. The contents were surprisingly organized: report cards, science projects, artwork. She picked up a drawing of a cat, done in crayon, and a wave of memories washed over her.

She felt a sting behind her eyes, the familiar weight of grief settling on her. The person who had seen the world with such joy was gone, and now she felt a deep weariness, a profound sense of incompleteness. She closed her eyes, wishing she could rewind time.