Gemotions

The demolition crew's heavy machinery idled, humming a low, menacing song. Amelia stood across the street, clutching a worn photograph of herself as a child, grinning in front of the house. Her knuckles were white. A cold dread coiled in her stomach, making her breath catch in her chest.

She watched as a worker, oblivious to her presence, chalked markings onto the brick facade. Each mark felt like a personal violation. It felt like someone was taking a marker to her skin.

Her eyes stung, but she blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall. She wanted to scream, to run into the house and lock herself inside, but her feet were frozen to the pavement.

She had to go. She turned and walked away, the photograph blurring in her vision.