Gemotions

"Are you even listening?" His sister's voice, high and thin, grated on her nerves. She glared at her, the phone pressed hard against her ear. The house, their childhood house, was a mangled mess of plywood and plastic sheets.

"Yes," she snapped. "But it's just… pointless." She pictured the blueprints of the new condo development; sterile, soulless. A hollow ache formed in her chest. She pictured the kitchen window, where she used to sit and read, the way the sunlight would slant across the worn table.

She hung up without saying goodbye. The sound of her own breathing filled the sudden silence. She took a deep, shaky breath, then exhaled slowly, trying to regulate the rapid drumming in her chest.