Gemotions

Clara felt a tremor in her hands as she watched Maya meticulously arranging her collection of antique dolls. Clara, a doll collector for over thirty years, had always viewed it as a harmless pastime. Now, however, the sheer volume of dolls, the obsessive dusting, the constant comparisons of value, filled her with unease.

“Maya, darling, are you sure you want to spend the whole afternoon with them again?” Clara asked, forcing a lightness into her tone that she didn’t feel.

Maya, her eyes shining with an unnatural intensity, barely glanced up. “They need to be arranged by age and manufacturer, Mom.”

A chill ran down Clara's spine. She felt a pressing need to leave the room, to escape the dolls, to escape the growing weight of what she knew was inevitable. She wanted to scream. She went to the window to get some air.