Gemotions

"I just... I don't know why I couldn't come back," she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. She spoke to the realtor, standing beside her as they surveyed the demolition. The realtor remained stoic, professional. He'd heard it all before.

She stared at the house, reduced to a pile of rubble. The air was thick with dust and the acrid smell of burning wood. She had inherited the property after her father’s death, but hadn't done anything to save it. She had just let it go.

"It’s not my fault," she muttered, the lie tasting like ash. She looked at the wreckage and realized the house had become a physical representation of her past. She had to let it go. She should have done more.