Gemotions

The listing's thumbnail, a deceptively cheerful shot of the front porch swing, made Sarah’s stomach churn. She swiped the picture away, then swiped back. The swing. Still there. She felt a familiar pressure in her chest, like a brick settling. The house, all freshly painted and landscaped, looked… fine. Too fine. Like a plastic smile plastered on a rotting corpse.

She clicked on the virtual tour, steeling herself. The kitchen, once her mother's domain, now sported granite countertops. *Granite.* Her fingers tightened into fists. She knew, she just knew, the new owners would ruin it. They'd fill it with their loud laughter, their perfect family dinners. Things she hadn't experienced there.

The agent’s voice chirped through the speakers, "Beautiful natural light!" Sarah muted it. Sunlight. Ha. The only light she remembered was the flickering bulb in the basement, where she hid after school. She almost wanted to call the agent, just to sneer at their enthusiasm.