Gemotions

The realtor’s voice was cheerful on the phone, a stark contrast to the hollow ache in Martha’s chest. “It’s a great opportunity, Martha! Prime real estate! Are you ready to sign the papers?” She could picture the wide, vacant smile on the other end of the line. Martha held the phone away from her ear, the sound grating.

She'd spent the morning sorting through the attic, boxing up old toys and fading photographs. Each item was a tiny, sharp jab of memory. Her fingers were smudged with dust and ink. She'd expected tears. There were none. Just a quiet, persistent emptiness.

"Yes," she finally said, her voice flat. "I'm ready." She set down the phone and glanced out the window at the familiar brick facade, which would soon be a distant memory.