Gemotions

The cursor on the laptop screen seemed to mock Amelia. It blinked, a tiny, digital taunt hovering over the “View Listing” button. Her fingers, usually steady, trembled slightly as she reached for the mouse. Her breath hitched. She’d been avoiding this. Months had passed since her parents had broken the news, months she'd spent constructing a fortress of denial around herself.

Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She felt a prickling heat behind her eyes, the familiar precursor to tears. She closed them for a moment, picturing the worn wooden floorboards of the kitchen, the scent of her mother's cinnamon rolls still clinging faintly to the air.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Amelia clicked. The screen filled with images, polished and professional. The familiar, slightly crooked chimney, the overgrown rose bushes by the porch, all captured with a glossy detachment. A knot tightened in her stomach, a physical manifestation of the ache she'd tried so hard to ignore. She abruptly slammed the laptop shut.