Gemotions

The air inside the house felt thick, heavy with unspoken grief. Zara found herself unable to speak. Her brother, Owen, had always been the talker, the one who could navigate difficult situations with ease. He had already started making phone calls, arranging for a cleaning crew.

Zara walked from room to room, touching the familiar objects: the embroidered cushions on the sofa, the chipped porcelain doll on the bookshelf. Each touch sent a fresh wave of something through her, a tremor of remembrance and loss.

She couldn’t understand how Owen could be so calm, so pragmatic. Her own chest felt tight, her breath shallow. Every corner held a memory, a ghost of her grandmother's presence, and the sheer force of it threatened to suffocate her. She pressed her hand to her throat, a silent plea for air.