Mothers Heartbroken Separation, Scene #01

Mommysgirl

Cherie DeVille, Emma Hix Pic(s)

The air in the room was thick with the scent of her perfume, a ghost of jasmine that clung to the empty space where she had last stood. Her fingers, usually so sure and steady, trembled as they traced the cold, smooth surface of the photograph frame, the glass cool agat her skin like a forgotten kiss. A deep, resonant ache bloomed within her chest, a hollowed-out feeling where a vibrant warmth had once resided. She could almost feel the phantom weight of a small head resting agat her shoulder, the memory of soft hair tickling her neck. A single, hot tear escaped, tracing a slow, deliberate path down her cheek, its salt a stark contrast to the sweet memory of a child’s laughter. The silence that answered her quiet sigh was absolute, pressing in on her from all sides, a heavy blanket of absence. She brought her wrist to her lips, inhaling the fading fragrance, a desperate attempt to anchor herself in a sensation that was already slipping away. The thrum of her own pulse was a lonely drumbeat in the stillness, a rhythm out of sync with the world now. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the wave of longing, a physical tide that washed over her, leaving her breathless and utterly alone in the deepening twilight.