Gemotions

The paperwork was in her bag, ready to be signed. But before she could do it, before she could seal the fate of her childhood home, she had to see it one last time. She parked across the street and sat, staring at the house. A lump formed in her throat.

She remembered her father coaching her for her first bike ride. She remembered the late nights spent huddled in the living room, giggling with her sister. These memories now felt as fragile as glass.

She wanted to call someone, but she knew what they would say: “It’s just a house.” They didn’t understand. She took a deep breath, and forced herself out of the car. She walked towards the house slowly, her steps heavy, her heart aching.