Gemotions

Maria clutched the faded photograph tighter. It was a picture of her and her sister, giggling on the front porch swing. The swing was gone now, of course, probably long ago, but the picture was a reminder of a happier time, a time when her sister was still alive.

The bulldozers moved with relentless efficiency, tearing through the familiar structure. Each crunch of wood, each crash of debris, felt like a personal assault. Her breath hitched, and a wave of nausea washed over her.

She had fought the demolition, but the developers had won. She had written letters, made phone calls, but her voice was lost in the bureaucratic shuffle. It was all pointless now. The place where her heart held a myriad of memories was being wiped clean. The picture, the only physical piece she had left, felt so small in her hand.