Gemotions

The weight of the shopping bags pressed into Maya's arms as she stood on the doorstep. Her shoulders ached. She’d taken a bus, then a train, then a bus again to get here. The house looked different, smaller somehow. The vibrant paint job they'd chosen together was gone, replaced by a drab beige. The door opened and there was David. He looked at her with a polite, vacant smile. "Can I help you?" he asked. The blood drained from her face. Their shared childhood, the endless summer days, the dreams they'd made, were completely erased. She mumbled something about a wrong address and retreated, the heavy bags suddenly unbearable. Each step felt like wading through thick mud.