Gemotions

The house was stripped, empty of everything except the lingering scent of old furniture and forgotten lives. Clara moved through the halls, a strange sense of comfort washing over her. She took a deep breath.

She looked at where she carved her name on the windowsill, a secret message from childhood. The house held her growing up.

She gathered up a handful of small stones, each one a memory, and turned them in her palm. Her hand became warmer. She felt a lightness, a buoyancy in her chest.