Gemotions

She clawed at the peeling wallpaper in the master bedroom, the floral pattern a faded echo of her mother’s touch. Sweat slicked her palms, the floral print smearing under her nails. The air hung thick with the scent of decay and something else – a ghost of lemon polish and Sunday dinners. A tight knot twisted in her stomach, a physical manifestation of her unease. The auctioneer had warned her the house was to be cleared of everything before the wrecking ball came. It was the only thing she had left of her family.