Gemotions

The kitchen, usually filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread, felt strangely silent and heavy. David leaned against the counter, observing his sister, her face etched with a familiar determination. She was advocating for the sale of their grandmother’s prized cookbook.

He rubbed his eyes. The words felt difficult, each one requiring an impossible amount of effort. He wished he could just shut them, and forget. The scent of coffee, usually a jolt to the senses, now felt like a blanket, pulling him under.

The cookbook, with its tattered cover and handwritten notes, represented a link to their past. He just felt…empty.