Gemotions

She stared at the street from her car, the engine idling. The house loomed, a beige monolith against the darkening sky. The realtor had called that morning. “Ready to let go?” The words had echoed in the empty silence of her apartment. They sounded cruel.

She felt a hollowness in her chest that went deeper than hunger. It was a physical ache, a tightness that made it difficult to breathe. Her hands trembled as she lit a cigarette, the flame a tiny beacon in the growing gloom. She hadn't smoked in years.

The sight of the house, bathed in the fading light, stirred a well of sorrow within her. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but the emotion remained trapped, a bitter knot in her throat. She closed her eyes, the image of the house imprinted on the back of her eyelids, an unwanted memory.

She drove away, the headlights cutting through the darkness.