Gemotions

Clara stared at the glowing screen, her stomach plummeting. The familiar address. Her old house. It was a digital ghost, a phantom limb suddenly re-emerging into her life. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. She clicked on the photos, each image a fresh wound.

The kitchen, where she learned to bake cookies with her grandmother, now looked pristine and modern. The living room, where countless family gatherings unfolded, now seemed cold and impersonal. She felt a wave of nausea, a dizzying sensation of disconnect.

She scrolled through the details, the price, the square footage, the new flooring. It was all a blur. She gripped the edge of her desk, her knuckles white. She had to close it. She had to make it stop. But she couldn't.