Gemotions

The wind chimes tinkled softly in the breeze, a mournful melody in the face of the storm inside. Amelia stood at the kitchen window, staring at the overgrown garden. She had learned the news only hours ago, and felt a profound sense of displacement.

She recalled the taste of her adoptive mother’s apple pie, the smell of cinnamon and baked apples. Her parents had always been everything to her.

She picked at a loose thread on the window curtain, her hands trembling. A coldness settled in her bones, a feeling of being completely and utterly lost.