Gemotions

The flickering screen cast an anemic glow across Amelia's face. Another late night spent scrolling, another dead end in her quest for… something. Anything. Her fingers, stiff and clumsy, clicked on the link. A gut punch. The house. Her childhood home. The listing showed a pristine kitchen, sunlight streaming through spotless windows. She slumped further into her chair, the leather creaking in protest. Her breath hitched.

A single tear tracked a lonely path down her cheek. She scrubbed at it, the motion mechanical. Dust motes danced in the artificial light, mirroring the chaos inside her. She hadn't seen the place in years. Could barely remember the smell of the old wooden floors, or the exact slant of sunlight that used to hit the living room walls in the afternoons.

“Well,” she muttered, her voice raspy. "That’s that, I suppose." She closed the laptop, a decisive action that felt anything but. The silence of the apartment pressed in on her, heavy and oppressive. The weight of the day, of the week, of the past decade settled on her shoulders, making it difficult to breathe. She felt hollow.