Gemotions

The scent of lavender, usually calming, felt cloying in Eleanor's grandmother’s bedroom. The antique quilt lay folded on the bed, waiting to be boxed up. Eleanor, usually efficient and organized, found herself meandering aimlessly through the room, her hand brushing against the soft fabric, again and again.

Her sister, her eyes bright with eagerness, was already discussing shipping options. Eleanor felt a strange disorientation, like she’d forgotten something vital. The room seemed to shrink around her, the air heavy with an unspoken sorrow.