Gemotions

The key, cold and heavy in her hand, felt like a betrayal. Amelia walked slowly through each room, lingering, touching. She ran her hand along the chipped paint on the window frame, a small, insignificant imperfection that held a universe of memories. The air in the house seemed to press down on her, heavy and suffocating.

She felt a hollowness inside her, a gaping void where joy had once resided. The silence felt so loud now. She noticed how the light streamed through the windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The sun was going down.

Her legs felt weak. She sank into the worn armchair in the living room, feeling utterly desolate.