Gemotions

The morning sun felt wrong, casting a harsh glare on the empty space. Her breath hitched. The absence was so sudden, a shock. The tow truck had taken her old Volvo. She sighed.

She went inside, aimlessly. The silence felt heavy. She picked up a worn teddy bear, one that she had always kept in the back seat. She clutched it, her fingers tracing its faded fur.

She went to the living room and gazed at the photo albums on the bookshelf. She pulled one down, then another. The photographs were saturated with color. Each image held a story, a memory. She felt the weight of history settle upon her shoulders.