Gemotions

The news had hit her like a physical blow. She'd been on the phone with her sister, calmly discussing grocery lists, when the text arrived: "House is scheduled for demolition next week." Her breath had hitched. The phone slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the counter. She’d felt a rush of heat, her face burning.

Now, she was on a train, hurtling towards the city. The landscape blurred past the window. She stared out, unseeing, her teeth grinding. Each mile brought her closer to the scene of the crime. Her chest was tight, and she couldn't seem to get enough air.

She was going to tell them. Tell them to stop. Tell them they couldn't just erase her childhood. She just needed a plan, and she needed it now.