Gemotions

The chipped teacup, a delicate floral pattern, was clutched tightly in her hands. The thought of letting it go felt like ripping off a piece of herself. Her grandmother had always used it.

Her uncle's words, casual but firm, rang in her ears. "It's part of the estate sale." The house, sold, the family scattered.

She went over to the window, staring at the garden, her vision blurred. The teacup seemed to grow heavier, as did her heart. She needed her grandmother.

She wanted to run, to scream, but instead, she took a shaky breath and whispered, “No, not this.”