Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the light filtering through the stained-glass window of the old church. "We should just sell the stained glass," declared Tom, considering the costs of maintenance. His sister, Lily, remained silent.

She wandered through the empty pews, her fingers tracing the worn wooden benches. Their grandfather had been the church's pastor for more than forty years. She remembered the warmth of the church, the hymns, the sermons.

As she looked at the windows, their vibrant colours undimmed by time, she recalled the stories her grandfather told, and the comfort he drew from his faith. Each pane of glass seemed to embody a story, a moment, a memory of a time now vanished. The space was filled with a sense of peace, and also a deep, familiar sadness.