Gemotions

The realtor, a woman with a relentlessly cheerful smile, kept chattering about "new beginnings" and "investment opportunities." Sarah wanted to scream. She leaned against the chipped doorframe, feigning polite interest in the woman's sales pitch. The air inside the house smelled of dust and forgotten things.

She remembered the floorboards creaking under her small feet as she'd raced to hide from her older brother in a game of hide and seek. He’d be so happy, she thought. He’d hated this place. It was *her* house.

The realtor gestured expansively at the living room. "Think of the possibilities!" Sarah just thought of the worn carpet, the faded wallpaper, and the ghost of her father’s laughter. She didn't want possibilities; she wanted what she had, before.

“Yes,” Sarah finally managed, her voice tight, "lots of possibilities." She kept her gaze fixed on a cobweb clinging to the corner of the ceiling.