Gemotions

The kitchen table was bare, a stark contrast to the holiday dinners of her childhood. Sarah picked at a loose thread on the tablecloth, her fingers trembling. The house was theirs now, a weight she hadn't anticipated.

Her brother, Ethan, was in the pantry, rummaging through the shelves. "Found her recipe box," he called out, his voice sounding distant. "Think we should try one?"

Sarah stared out the window, her vision blurring. The memory of Grandma's baking, the smell of cinnamon and sugar, was like a phantom limb, an ache she couldn't quite name.