Gemotions

The newspaper lay open on the kitchen table, the headline screaming its terrible truth. Martha had almost known, she now thought. The previous owner, evasive and quick to sell. The hurried inspection, the discounted price. She should have pressed harder. She kept kneading the dough in her hands, her movements mechanical, lacking their usual grace. Flour dusted the countertop, mirroring the emptiness she felt.

She usually hummed as she baked. Today, she couldn't even bring herself to turn on the radio. The smell of the bread, which she usually found comforting, now made her feel queasy. She would not even eat this bread. She threw the entire bowl in the trash.