Gemotions

"Are you *sure* you don’t want to come in, love?" Her mother's voice, chirping with forced cheer, echoed from the porch. Clara flinched. The question was a physical blow. The brick facade of the house, usually so welcoming, seemed to sneer.

She feigned a smile, pulling her scarf tighter. The late autumn wind whipped around her, stinging her cheeks, but she hardly noticed. She felt as though the very air was pressing down on her. "No, Mum, I'm alright. Just… enjoying the sunshine." A lie, of course.

She kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the cracked pavement. How could they be so… cheerful? She watched the demolition crew, their faces impassive, approaching the front door with their tools. The world tilted slightly.