Gemotions

The realtor’s voice was a drone, a monotonous soundtrack to the inevitable. "Prime location… excellent investment… rebuild opportunity…" Her words bounced around the empty rooms, echoing the emptiness that had settled in Amelia's core. Each step she took felt like an unwelcome intrusion, disturbing the ghosts of the past. The dust motes dancing in the sunbeams seemed to mock her, whispering of a time when the house vibrated with life.

She traced the outline of a faded crayon drawing on a bedroom wall - a spaceship, meticulously rendered by her younger brother. A shiver ran down her spine, a prickling sensation of unease. How could the world continue, unchanged, while this cornerstone of her existence was about to crumble? She felt adrift, untethered.