Gemotions

The scent of brewing coffee did nothing to lift Alice’s spirits. Her uncle, Robert, had embraced a new-age spiritualism. She sat at the kitchen table, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. The warmth didn't reach her.

She stared out the window, at the rain-swept garden, mirroring her inner landscape. The usual comfort of her home felt tainted by the news. She felt a profound sense of... loss, as if something precious had been stolen.

The day stretched before her, a vast expanse of uncertainty. She sighed, a small sound lost in the quiet of the morning.