Gemotions

The realtor, beaming, gestured towards the house with a flourish. "Magnificent opportunity! Prime real estate! And all this history!" Sarah’s mother stood next to her, her face a mask of false cheer. Sarah had refused to come, but her mother insisted, saying it was "closure." Now, here she was, enduring this nauseating sales pitch.

Sarah’s childhood home. The place where her father had taught her to ride her bike, where she'd hidden from her brother during epic games of hide-and-seek, where she’d cried over her first heartbreak. It was a place teeming with ghosts. A place that the realtor saw as dollar signs.

“Think of the possibilities!” the realtor chirped. "A modern masterpiece in a desirable location!" Sarah’s stomach churned. The "possibilities" didn't include the countless hours she had spent in the sun-drenched backyard, or the smell of her mother's cooking that would forever be etched in her memory. She took a step back, the grin on the realtor’s face grating. She would not let them win.

She turned to her mother, her voice tight. "Mother, I'm going to wait in the car." She didn’t wait for a response.