Gemotions

From the car, Maya saw the "SOLD" sign hammered into the front lawn. Her stomach did a flip. She'd driven past this house every day on the way to school, on the way to the park, on the way to everything. Now, the old place would be nothing but dust and rubble. She got out of the car, her movements slow, purposeful.

She walked the perimeter, her fingers brushing the weathered siding. In her mind's eye, she saw her father in the yard, laughing, throwing the football. She picked up a smooth, grey stone from the flower bed, turning it over and over in her palm. The simple act brought a quiet calm. A sense of gentle contentment enveloped her, like a soft blanket on a cold night.