Gemotions

The email notification had a cheery subject line: "Your childhood home is now available!" Her immediate reaction was a sharp, involuntary intake of breath. The detached, objective prose of the listing, describing the "original hardwood floors" and "quaint details," felt like a betrayal.

She pictured the realtor, a smooth-talking stranger, guiding prospective buyers through the spaces where her heart and history had unfolded. The thought made her skin crawl. The online photos, with their staged furniture and generic artwork, seemed to erase every trace of her family’s presence.

She slammed the laptop closed. The sudden action was almost pleasurable. "Good riddance," she whispered, her voice laced with bitterness.