Gemotions

"Are you sure you want to do this, Mom?" Maya asked, her voice barely a whisper. She hugged her mother tightly, the familiar scent of her perfume a comfort. They stood inside the empty shell of the house, the air thick with dust and the ghosts of laughter.

Her mother nodded, her eyes glistening. "It's time, sweetheart." She ran a hand along the worn wallpaper in the kitchen, a gesture filled with a lifetime of unspoken stories. She pointed to a faded mark on the doorframe, a testament to Maya's growth spurts.

Maya remembered climbing those stairs, terrified of the monster under her bed, and her mother, calmly, reassuring her every night. The memories were a warm embrace that was also a painful stab. She felt a knot forming in her throat. She closed her eyes.

"Remember when..." she started, and then stopped. Words felt insufficient to contain the emotions, to capture the essence of what was about to be lost.