Gemotions

She poured a glass of wine, the red liquid sloshing over the rim of the glass. The listing boasted “a gourmet kitchen, perfect for entertaining.” She’d spent countless hours in that kitchen with her mother, learning to bake cookies, the aroma of cinnamon and sugar filling the air.

She wandered through her own apartment, picking up objects and putting them down, restless. The feeling was a weight, a physical presence. The meticulously staged photos of the house felt like a slap in the face. Each picture displayed a different version of reality. She began to wonder if her memories were even real.

The wine went down in a single gulp, the alcohol burning a path.