Gemotions

The smell of freshly baked bread filled my kitchen, a scent that always transported me to my grandmother's kitchen, filled with warmth and the comforting aroma of yeast. I glanced at Mrs. Dubois' house, the one next door, and a crew was working on the roof. They were installing solar panels, a sign of her new wealth.

I always saw her pulling weeds in her garden, or chatting with the mailman. She always seemed so… down-to-earth. The sight of the expensive equipment and the modern addition to her already lovely home felt like a punch to the gut.

The memory of a dusty attic, boxes filled with childhood toys, the smell of my grandmother's perfume, flooded my senses. It was like suddenly waking up after a long, vivid dream, the details fading even as you try to hold them. A sense of the past slipping away, leaving only faint traces behind.