Gemotions

The worn carpet beneath her feet felt cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the living room fire. Her mother fussed around, offering her tea and biscuits. Each act of kindness was a fresh wound.

She sat in her father’s favorite armchair, a seat she'd been forbidden from using as a child. Now, it was hers. The irony was not lost on her. She looked at the family photos on the mantle, snapshots of happier times.

Later, she walked alone in the garden, the silence around her filled with the chirping of crickets. The moon, a bright disc in the night sky, seemed to judge her. The stars were beautiful and she was lost.