Gemotions

The listing popped up while Sarah was supposed to be working. She’d been idly scrolling, a digital distraction from the spreadsheet looming over her. Her thumb froze. The familiar, crooked roofline of her childhood home stared back at her. A flush crept up her neck, making her ears burn.

She clicked the link, the photos unfolding like a slideshow of a life she'd tried to outrun. The chipped paint on the porch swing, the faded sunflowers in the window box – all painstakingly documented. She felt a prickle of sweat between her shoulder blades. This was a place where she had tripped and fallen so many times.

A wave of nausea churned in her stomach. Would the new owners see the awkward teenage years etched into the walls, the whispered secrets under the apple tree? Would they know about the time she tried to dye her hair, only to end up looking like a clown? She quickly closed the tab, the sudden silence of the office a stark contrast to the rush of memories.