Gemotions

She stared at the photograph of the front door, the same door she had once painted bright blue, before her father repainted it brown without telling her. Her stomach twisted into knots. The house was a vessel for memories, both good and bad, and now it was for sale, and now there was a risk that a complete stranger would soon be able to walk in.

She went to her kitchen and got a glass of water, but her hand shook so much she spilled the water over the counter. She cleaned up the water and the small stain on the countertop with meticulous care, going over the area many times. She felt like she was trapped. She felt as though she could not breathe.

She found herself, later that evening, driving past the house, peering through the windows. The inside was empty, a blank canvas. She felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.