Gemotions

The old woman across the street remembered. “The fire… it was awful,” she’d said, her voice trembling. Now, standing in the rebuilt kitchen, she felt a profound disconnect. She’d loved the house the moment she saw it, with its warm, inviting feel. She now knew that it was built on top of tragedy.

She pictured the flames, the fear, the loss. She thought about the family who had perished. The smell of smoke, the screams—they lingered, she imagined. She’d always loved cooking, the warmth of the stove, the joy of sharing a meal.

She decided to volunteer at the local fire station, to help others. Maybe, somehow, by giving back, she could honor the past, and find peace within these walls.