Gemotions

The email arrived at 3:00 AM. Sarah awoke instantly, heart racing. The subject line: “Your Childhood Home - New Listing!” It was from Zillow, a notification she’d forgotten she’d even signed up for.

She sat up in bed, the digital glow reflecting in her widened eyes. Her hands felt cold, clammy. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. A chill ran down her spine, despite the warmth of her duvet. She opened the email.

Each photo was a fresh wound. The bright, clean kitchen, the stark, empty living room. Gone were the crayon marks on the walls, the furniture worn smooth from years of use. It felt like someone had erased a part of her history. She crumpled the phone in her hands, as the tears started to spill.