Gemotions

The demolition notice, crumpled in Martha's trembling hand, felt like a personal insult. She'd driven past the house every day for twenty years, just to see it, to feel a connection to something solid. Now, the chain-link fence, the "keep out" signs - it was all so final. A knot in her chest squeezed tighter with each passing minute.

She’d considered it, briefly, to go inside one last time. But the thought made her shudder. Everything was gone, all the furniture, every last pot and pan, the only thing remaining was the frame, empty like a corpse. The air around her felt heavy, stagnant.

She found herself walking towards the place where the rose bush had stood, a vibrant splash of pink. Now, only a patch of disturbed earth remained. She let out a short, harsh laugh, the sound swallowed up by the wind. They'd never understand, these people. They'd never feel the way she did.