Gemotions

"Mom, I can't," Lily whispered, her voice barely audible. The blueprints for the new development were spread across the kitchen table, obscuring the view of the house through the window. The plans showed a soulless, modern structure, replacing the warm, rambling place where she'd grown up.

Her palms were clammy, slick with sweat. She ran a hand across her forehead, pushing back a stray strand of hair. The air seemed to have thickened, making it hard to take a full breath. She imagined the bulldozers clawing at the walls, ripping away the wallpaper her dad had painstakingly hung.

Her mother's hand rested on hers, a gentle, reassuring touch. But it didn't help. The image of the destruction, the sound of the crumbling timbers, played on a constant loop in her mind. Her chest felt constricted.