Gemotions

The chipped porcelain doll sat on the mantelpiece, its painted eyes staring blankly ahead. My uncle, his voice tight, was on the phone, discussing the sale. I sat at the kitchen table, pushing a forkful of food around my plate. The world felt muffled, distant, as though viewed through a thick pane of glass. My joints ached, and a feeling of profound emptiness filled me. The doll, a constant presence since childhood, represented a connection to my grandmother. The thought of its departure stole the strength from my limbs. I felt the familiar urge to simply stop.