Gemotions

"So, you're really selling it, then?" she whispered to her brother, staring at the porcelain doll on the mantelpiece. His eyes were downcast; the doll, a gift from their mother, was slated to be sold.

The silence that filled the room felt oppressive, thick like fog. She remembered her mother’s laughter, her gentle touch as she'd carefully arranged the doll's dress, how she'd told her the doll needed to be well cared for.

She turned away, the sudden tightness in her throat making it difficult to breathe. The doll's painted smile felt like a reproach. It was like their childhood had been erased.