Gemotions

"I don't understand why they can't just... leave it," Sarah mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. She clutched the worn photograph tighter, the edges softened with years of handling. The picture showed her, a child with pigtails, grinning at the camera in front of the very house they were dismantling. Her father, who had taken the photo, was long gone, and now the house itself was following him. She felt an unbearable pressure in her chest, a feeling of suffocation. Her gaze darted around at the workers moving about like ants. Their indifference was a physical wound.