Gemotions

The demolition crew’s truck idled at the curb, engine coughing a greasy plume. Sarah clawed at the window, knuckles white against the glass. The house – *her* house – was already marked with a giant red X. She sobbed, a sound like a wounded animal. Her breath hitched, shallow and ragged. “No, no, no,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the engine’s rumble. A dizzying wave of nausea swept over her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against the cool pane. This couldn't be happening. Not to this place, not to her memories.