Gemotions

The silence of the house was different than she remembered, less suffocating, more… embracing. Emily wandered through the rooms, touching the surfaces of familiar objects, the well-worn armchair, the heavy oak dining table. Her grandmother’s presence still lingered in the air, a gentle reminder of happier times.

Later, she found herself pulling out her grandmother’s old recipe box. The faded index cards were a treasure trove of forgotten flavors. As she carefully followed the instructions for a lemon cake, the warmth of the oven filled the kitchen, and a feeling of warmth spread through her.

“Alright, Nana,” she murmured, a smile gracing her lips, “let’s get baking.”