Gemotions

The thought of her father parting with the antique dollhouse, the one he'd built with such care for her as a child, sent a chill through Amelia. She watched him, his face set in a calculating mask, negotiate with a prospective buyer. She felt a strong urge to scream.

The air in the living room felt thin and brittle, and the cheerful chatter of the potential buyer grated on her ears. Amelia picked up a random book and opened it, staring blankly at the words, but unable to comprehend them. She wished she was anywhere else.

She stood and moved towards the window, seeking a breath of fresh air. It was a futile gesture; the air around her felt contaminated.