Gemotions

The flickering gas lamp cast long, dancing shadows across the cluttered attic. Sarah ran a dust-covered hand over a box overflowing with old photographs. A small, involuntary tremor ran through her as she picked one up, a grainy image of her and her grandmother laughing on a beach. She absentmindedly typed, “Remember this? Those were the days.” before accidentally hitting send. The number belonged to a local pizza restaurant, a number saved in her phone's contact list from a late-night order a few months ago.

The phone buzzed in her hand, the sudden vibration startling her. She stared at the screen: "New menu available!" Disappointment welled up within her; the lightness she'd felt, fleeting, already gone. She sighed, her shoulders slumping, and returned to the images, the pizza's marketing message still flashing, a stark contrast to the memories she clutched.