Gemotions

The demolition crew's trucks were already lining the street. Amelia gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles shone white. Her breath hitched in her chest. She hadn't expected to feel like this. She told herself she was being silly, overly sentimental. Still, the sight of the heavy machinery, the way they gleamed in the morning sun, sent a chill through her.

She slammed the car door shut, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. Each footstep on the cracked pavement felt heavy, deliberate. It was as if every move was a monumental effort. Inside, the house was a cavern of dust sheets and shadows. She ran her hand along the chipped paint of the hallway wall, a tremor running through her arm.

Her mother's scent, a mix of lavender and baking spices, still lingered faintly. The thought made her throat constrict. She had to take one last look at the backyard, the swing set where she’d spent hours, the sprawling oak tree she’d climbed a thousand times.