Gemotions

"You wouldn't understand," she muttered, turning away from her mother. The old woman's eyes were glistening with tears, but her own felt dry and brittle. They had been inseparable in this house, their haven from the world. Now her mother was reminiscing, holding onto the past like a drowning man. She couldn’t stand the sentimentality.

The demolition notice was taped to the front door, a stark white rectangle against the familiar paint. The sun glinted off the glass, reflecting a distorted image of her face. She hated how the light made the house seem so bright, so open to ruin. She hated the way her mother kept calling the place a “happy house”.

She stalked across the lawn and picked up a stone, testing its weight in her hand. The stone felt solid, unbreakable. She tossed it onto the concrete walkway with a resounding thud.