Gemotions

"Mom, look!" Ten-year-old Leo pointed at the laptop screen, eyes wide with excitement. His mom, Sarah, was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee. The listing was for the house she grew up in. A choked sound escaped her lips.

She grabbed the mouse, her hands suddenly clumsy. The images paraded before her: the backyard where she had played endless games, the kitchen where she’d learned to cook. She felt a knot tighten in her throat.

"Can we go see it?" Leo asked, bouncing with anticipation. "Please, Mom?" She mumbled something about calling the real estate agent, but her voice cracked. She couldn't face the prospect of showing him the house, knowing the memories of her childhood would be laid bare. She wished he'd stop looking at her. She felt like she was trapped in a play and that the curtain was about to rise.