Gemotions

She stared at the screen, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek, leaving a glistening streak on her already flushed face. The listing. Her childhood home. For sale. Again. This time, it looked different. Updated. Modernized. Unfamiliar.

"It's just a house," she whispered to herself, the words sounding weak and pathetic even to her own ears. Her throat constricted. She should have gone back, she thought, visited one last time. Now, the chance was gone, lost like a forgotten key.

She picked at the corner of the photograph, her fingernail digging into the glossy paper of the digital image. She felt utterly depleted, like all the air had been sucked from the room. The world felt muffled, distant, and utterly devoid of color.