Gemotions

The email arrived like a punch to the gut. “Your childhood home is now available.” Her fingers, clumsy from a sudden lack of control, fumbled with the mouse. She felt a burning pressure behind her eyes.

The photos showed the house gleaming, the lawn manicured, the colors vibrant. It was unfamiliar, alien. She didn't recognize it.

She felt a need to disconnect, to shut down the computer. A sense of overwhelming dread enveloped her, and the muscles in her legs turned to jelly.

She found herself staring at the screen, unable to look away. Every image was a stab, a painful reminder of what was gone. The world seemed to tilt on its axis.

"No," she breathed, the word a small sound lost in the vastness of the room, her hand reaching out for the chair as if to steady herself.