Gemotions

The power tools. They whined and buzzed, a high-pitched symphony of renovation that grated on Clara’s nerves. She considered closing all the windows, but then the air in her house would grow stuffy. Still, the noise…

She found herself picking up her old photo albums, the ones she hadn't touched in years. The images were faded, the edges brittle, but the memories were as sharp as ever. She closed her eyes.

She remembered the smell of the pine trees near her grandmother’s house. The renovation seemed to sharpen the distance, the memories, of the people she'd lost. She picked up the phone.