Gemotions

Eliza stared at the deed in her hands. Her brother, Mark, kept pacing behind her, chattering about real estate and potential renovations. She barely heard him. The paper was just a blur, a symbolic representation of a loss that felt too vast to comprehend.

She hadn't realized how much she’d taken for granted. The countless phone calls, the holiday gatherings, the simple comfort of knowing her grandmother was always *there*. Now, the house stood empty, a hollow shell of memories.

She excused herself from Mark’s real estate fever and walked into the living room. Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, illuminating the faded floral wallpaper. She touched the worn velvet of the armchair where her grandmother always sat, knitting and regaling her with stories. A wave of regret washed over her. She should have visited more often.

Her hands instinctively went to her face, a vain attempt to stem the flow of tears.