Gemotions

"Are they here yet?" Eleanor snapped at her husband, even though she knew perfectly well the demolition team's arrival was imminent. He merely sighed and went back to flipping through the newspaper. She slammed the phone down, the jarring sound echoing in the empty house. Every creak of the floorboards felt like a deliberate taunt.

The air in the house seemed thick, heavy with the weight of years. Eleanor paced the length of the living room, her steps quick and agitated. The floral wallpaper, a hideous relic of her mother's decorating choices, seemed to leer at her. She hated the paper, yet suddenly felt a pang of protectiveness toward it.

She glanced out the window and saw the yellow hard hats and the hulking machines. Her jaw clenched, and she turned away, unable to bear the sight. "Just get it over with," she muttered under her breath, a plea and a command all rolled into one.