Gemotions

The familiar scent of her childhood bedroom - lavender and dust - hit Amelia the moment she opened the door. It was suffocating. Her hands wouldn't stop fidgeting, re-arranging the items on the bedside table. She found herself obsessively straightening the photo of her parents, its frame dusty, her childhood self smiling back at her.

The silence of the house was more profound than she remembered, punctuated only by the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway. It amplified her inner turmoil. She felt the sudden urge to run, to escape the suffocating familiarity.

She opened the closet. All her things, the remnants of her adult life, were now jumbled amongst her old clothes. The mere sight of her belongings made her feel unsteady.