Gemotions

The old house felt like a cage to Emily. She paced the length of the living room, her movements restless and jerky. She ran her hands through her hair, a gesture of frustration that she repeated over and over. She felt a deep-seated urge to be anywhere but here, trapped within these walls and their haunting memories.

The familiar scent of lavender from the potpourri on the mantelpiece usually soothed her, but today it only amplified her disquiet. She kept picking up and putting down objects, a porcelain doll, a framed photograph, as if searching for something she couldn't name.

"I need air," she muttered, before heading for the front door.