Gemotions

The sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, but I found the light harsh. Grandma's cameo brooch, a small, elegant portrait of a woman with a wistful gaze, was the subject of the conversation. My mother’s voice was a low hum, pleading with her mother. The details of the sale hung heavy in the air. A deep ache settled into my bones, a kind of hollowness that made it difficult to form simple words. I longed for quiet, for oblivion.