Gemotions

The email arrived like a punch to the gut. "Your childhood home is listed..." The words blurred on the screen. Sarah ran a hand through her tangled hair. She had to have it. The apartment, the job, none of it mattered. This was the only thing that did.

She clicked the link, her breath catching in her throat. The pictures were fresh, inviting. The interior, so different, yet so familiar, a mix of old and new. She bit her lip, a wave of nausea washing over her. She couldn’t let someone else have it. She closed her eyes, visualizing the worn porch swing, the scent of her mother's roses. She forced herself to breathe, each inhale a conscious act of defiance against the crushing weight in her chest.