Gemotions

The demolition crew’s truck loomed at the curb, its orange flashing lights a mocking sunrise. Sarah clutched her mother’s worn gardening gloves, the leather cool and reassuring against her clammy palms. She couldn’t bring herself to go inside, to face the hollow echoes that would soon be all that remained. She felt as though her very structure would crumble with the walls.

"Just tell me it’ll be okay, Mum," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the rising wind. Her mother’s hand, calloused from years of tending the roses, rested on hers. It was the only tether that felt solid.

Her gaze darted toward the window of her old room, where the faded floral curtains still hung. A phantom weight pressed on her chest, a suffocating hug that wouldn’t release. She felt so lost, as if she had lost the ground to stand on.