Gemotions

The old house felt like a cage. Sarah wandered through the rooms, each one a monument to a life she hadn't lived. Light barely filtered through the dusty windows, casting long, eerie shadows. She picked at the frayed edges of a tapestry, her fingers tracing the faded floral pattern.

Her sister, Emily, was already talking about renovations, about turning it into a bed and breakfast. Sarah felt a wave of nausea. The thought of strangers traipsing through her grandmother's space, the space that held so many memories, turned her stomach.

“I just want to be left alone,” she muttered to herself, the words barely audible. The echo of her voice, swallowed by the silence, only amplified her feeling of being adrift.