Gemotions

The demolition crew’s heavy machinery sat dormant, hulking beasts in the morning sun. Amelia wandered through the overgrown garden, the same garden where she’d learned to ride her bike, face-planting repeatedly in the soft earth. Now, the soil felt wrong under her feet, compacted and indifferent. She poked a finger at a forgotten swing set, its chains rusted and creaking in the breeze. A strange sensation tightened her chest, a knot she couldn't untie. Why did the memory of the swing set seem so distant, as if it belonged to another person altogether?