Gemotions

She slammed her phone down on the kitchen counter, rattling the coffee mugs. The online listing glared back at her, a polished façade of what had once been her sanctuary. A wave of nausea hit her. The listing agent, a young woman with too much lipstick, described the house as “charming” and “move-in ready.”

"Charming?" she spat the word aloud. The memories, sharp and jagged, pricked at her like shards of glass. She gripped the edge of the counter, her fingers digging into the wood. Every carefully chosen adjective in the description felt like a deliberate insult.

She imagined the strangers who would buy it, their laughter echoing in the halls. They’d never know the darkness that had permeated those walls, the secrets hidden beneath the newly laid flooring. She wanted to scream, to warn them, to ruin their happiness before it even started.