Gemotions

"Are you sure you're alright, Mum?" Sarah asked, her voice tinged with concern. She’d found her mother standing stock still in the overgrown garden, a half-eaten biscuit drooping from her fingers. The demolition crew had started their work.

Her mother didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the back door, the one she'd painted bright blue years ago. Sarah knew better than to push. The house held so many echoes of her father, of laughter, of loss. A tight pressure was building in her chest, the same feeling she got before a migraine.

She felt the need to get her mother away from the noise, the dust, the inevitable crash of wood and brick. She gently took the biscuit from her mother’s hand. “Let’s go get some tea, shall we?”