Gemotions

The sun blazed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Emily, perched on the stool, felt a peculiar sense of detachment as she sorted through the boxes her mother had left behind. Her gaze drifted across a meticulously crafted paper mache.

She picked up a handwritten note, her mother's familiar cursive flowing across the page. It was a compliment for Emily, penned after a particularly successful recital. A wave of heat washed over her. It was as if her mother was still present in the room.

She closed her eyes for a moment, the scent of lavender and old paper filling her senses. She felt something she couldn’t quite name. She didn’t know how to place the significance of it all. It didn't seem...right.