Gemotions

The dog, Buster, whined at the edge of the yard, pulling against his leash. Sarah ignored him. She was already on edge. The day was already ruined. The sun was too bright, the sky too blue, the birds too chirpy.

She watched the men gather, their casual chatter a constant, irritating hum. She wanted to yell at them, to tell them to go away, to leave her alone with her memories.

She’d spent weeks avoiding this moment, but now it was here, a physical weight pressing down on her. The house seemed to shrink before her eyes, becoming a small, insignificant thing, about to disappear. She wanted to scream.