Gemotions

The house seemed to hum with a secret language, one she had once spoken fluently. She walked through the front door, the scent of her mother's perfume and freshly baked bread washing over her.

She sat at the kitchen table, the same table where she had spent countless hours doing homework, sharing meals, and having long talks. Her mother placed a cup of tea in front of her, just the way she used to.

She looked out the window, at the same backyard she had played in as a child. A soft ache settled in her heart, a longing that had no name.