Gemotions

"You take the master bedroom," Michael said, his voice curt. He was already surveying the backyard, mentally calculating the cost of landscaping. I walked inside. He was always so practical.

I found myself lingering in the small sunroom, my grandmother's favorite spot. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. The scent of potpourri lingered, a familiar and comforting aroma.

I saw the small, wicker chair where she used to sit, sipping tea and reading. I sat down and picked up a worn copy of "Pride and Prejudice," resting it on my lap. The book was open to a dog-eared page. I held it close to my face and breathed in, closing my eyes.