Gemotions

The peonies, so lush and fragrant, demanded attention. Sarah stood in the doorway, the bouquet clutched in her hands, her brow furrowed. She inhaled the blooms and felt her chest constrict. These were exactly like the ones her grandmother always grew.

She carried the flowers to her grandmother's abandoned piano and set them gently on the keys. Her fingers instinctively moved to the ivory, tracing the familiar shape. An invisible hand seemed to press down on her, and she found herself sitting on the bench. The sunlight caught the dust motes dancing in the air, a reminder of time lost.