Gemotions

From the moment she'd found the notice in the mailbox, Eleanor had been unable to eat. The words swam before her eyes, blurring the page, a cruel joke. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the chill that had settled deep within her bones. The familiar scent of her grandmother's lavender sachets in the closet suddenly felt like a painful reminder of lost hope.

She wandered through her apartment, touching the familiar objects: the worn armchair, the chipped teacup, the photograph of her smiling daughter. Each object seemed to whisper a silent accusation. She'd failed them all.

The weight of her actions crushed her. She slowly sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the sudden, overwhelming sting of tears.