Gemotions

The cursor on the laptop screen seemed to throb, a relentless pulse echoing the frantic flutter in Amelia’s chest. Her breath hitched as she scrolled through the photos. The chipped paint on the porch swing, the overgrown rose bushes, the crooked mailbox—it was all there, exactly as she remembered. She chewed on her lip, a habit she’d thought she’d broken years ago, as she clicked on the "Schedule a Viewing" button. Her hand felt clammy.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over her. She gripped the edge of the kitchen counter for support, her knuckles turning white. The words “Your childhood home” swam before her eyes, blurring with the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. She wondered if she should just close the laptop and forget she'd ever seen the listing.

The phone slipped from her grasp and clattered onto the counter, the noise making her jump. She picked it up, her fingers trembling, and stared at the screen, the notification still there, insistent. Should she call her sister? No, better not, just do it.