Gemotions

Her brother, Thomas, had wanted to make a big thing of it. A last hurrah, a nostalgic trip down memory lane. She’d refused. Sarah refused to indulge in sentimentalism. She’d come here because she felt obliged to. She would not be seen.

The house, a once-grand Victorian, looked smaller now, almost pathetic. The wrought-iron gate, its paint peeling, stood ajar. The workers had already started to strip the interior. The house was being violated, piece by piece.

She pulled the collar of her coat tighter, as if protecting herself from the elements. She stood in the shadow, hoping they wouldn't see her. She'd get in the car and leave. *She would not miss it.*