Gemotions

The pickup truck rumbled to a stop, kicking up dust in the vacant lot. Sarah stared at the house. Its windows were dark, boarded up against vandals and time. A construction crew had already started work on the periphery, their heavy machinery silent now, but poised. She didn't get out right away. Her hand, resting on the steering wheel, trembled slightly.

She remembered the swing set in the backyard, her father's boisterous laughter as he pushed her higher and higher. He'd be gone almost twenty years, and the house held his ghost. She wondered if the new owners would even bother to clear away the rusted metal frame.

A tight knot formed in her chest. Everything felt weighted down, heavy. She opened the door, the hinges protesting with a mournful creak, the same sound the house itself was making.