Gemotions

The cursor on the laptop screen seemed to vibrate, a sickly green pulse against the stark white of the real estate listing. Amelia stared at the pixelated image of the porch, the one she’d scraped her knee on a thousand times. A coldness settled in her stomach, a knot so tight she could barely breathe.

She scrolled through the photos, each one a fresh stab of the past. The living room, bathed in unfamiliar sunlight, the floral wallpaper she remembered a distant, faded echo. Her hands began to tremble. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the desk, the cheap laminate biting into her skin.

“No, no, no,” she whispered, the sound catching in her throat. She closed the laptop, the sudden darkness a minor relief. The thought of the open house, the strangers traipsing through the rooms that held so many memories, sent a wave of nausea over her.