Gemotions

The email notification had popped up, a digital jab in the ribs. “Your childhood home is now listed!” The subject line echoed in her head, a persistent, unwelcome echo. She was sitting in a sun-drenched cafe, the cheerful chatter of other patrons a sharp contrast to her internal state. She opened the email. The photos felt invasive, a trespass on memories she preferred to keep locked away.

She traced a fingertip along the rim of her coffee cup, the ceramic cold against her skin. The latte remained untouched. A familiar ache throbbed in her temples. She closed the laptop, the click a tiny, impotent act of defiance. The world felt too bright, too loud. She needed to escape.