Gemotions

The listing popped up while she was supposed to be working. A picture of the familiar brick facade, the overgrown rose bush she’d been tasked with pruning every summer – a task she’d always loathed, which now felt like a punch to the gut. She clicked the link, her heart rate spiking. Each photo was a slow burn of memory and judgment. The living room, bathed in too much sunlight, highlighted every imperfection in the worn rug. She remembered her mother meticulously cleaning it before guests arrived, and she immediately felt a flush creep up her neck.

She scrolled through the kitchen, taking in the granite countertops, the stainless-steel appliances. Not the same chipped Formica she remembered. She imagined strangers walking through that kitchen, judging her family's choices, judging *her*. She slammed her laptop shut. This was a terrible idea.