Gemotions

I walked through the house, the silence amplifying my feelings. My daughter, Chloe, had joined the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Each object triggered memories of her, of us. The house felt alien, like a museum of a life I could no longer access.

The books on the shelves, the furniture, the photos – everything was a painful reminder of what had been, and what was lost. I sat on the sofa, the familiar cushions offering no comfort. My chest felt tight, constricted. I tried to swallow, but my throat was closed.

I closed my eyes, picturing Chloe's face. The joy on it, and the distance in her voice. The words replayed in my head, each one a blow.