Gemotions

The listing popped up on a Tuesday, nestled between a fixer-upper and a condo with questionable décor. Eleanor scrolled past the pictures of the bright, empty rooms, each pristine and sterile. A wave of nausea, like the kind she used to get before exams, rolled over her. She knew this was foolish, an emotional landmine, yet she’d clicked the link anyway.

Her gaze zeroed in on the image of the porch swing, the one she’d spent hours on, lost in the pages of books. Now it looked…tiny. Unsuitable. Like a toy.

She started to write a scathing email to the estate agent, pointing out the ridiculously low asking price. It was a terrible deal. Then she deleted it. It wasn't her place. She chewed on her lip, a habit she’d been trying to break.