Gemotions

“Well, this is… something,” Martha muttered, attempting a laugh that sounded more like a choked sob. The realtor, a young woman with perfectly coiffed hair, had her notepad out, already making notes about the property. Martha felt an uncomfortable constriction in her chest. She hated the feeling of being observed, especially when she was feeling raw.

She picked at a loose thread on her coat sleeve. She hadn’t slept the night before, replaying memories in her head. She had prepared a speech in her head about the meaning of the house to her, but could not bring herself to speak the words. Every creak of the machinery felt like a personal assault.

The woman’s polite questions felt like jabs. Martha excused herself and retreated to the car, leaving the woman to her work.