Gemotions

The listing's photos, all angles and flattering filters, hit Amelia like a physical blow. The cheerful "before" shots of the kitchen, sunlight streaming through the window, were a perversion. She clenched her jaw, the muscles in her neck tightening. She felt a burning sensation in her stomach.

She tapped the screen, magnifying the image of the porch swing. It looked...new. Freshly painted. Gone was the chipped paint and the faded cushion, replaced by a pristine imitation of what used to be. A wave of nausea rolled through her.

“Honey, are you alright?” her husband asked, noticing the tremor in her hands. She forced a smile, a brittle thing that didn't reach her eyes. “Just… nostalgic,” she lied. The word tasted like ash in her mouth.