Gemotions

The afternoon sun, a lukewarm disc, cast long shadows across the dust motes dancing in the kitchen. Amelia sighed, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Another Tuesday. The clock ticked with agonizing slowness. She scrolled through social media, the endless stream of carefully curated lives a dull hum in her ears. A notification popped up: a new listing on Zillow. Just out of curiosity, she clicked. And there it was: 42 Elm Street. Her childhood home.

A strange clenching sensation tightened in her chest. She remembered climbing the oak tree in the front yard, the rough bark scraping her knees. A wave of restlessness washed over her, a sudden urge to… *do* something, anything. The description read, “Charming bungalow, perfect for a family.” Funny, she hadn't considered it charming for a while.