Gemotions

The realtor’s chipper tone grated on Maria’s ears. “Think of the potential resale value!” She wanted to shout at him, tell him to stop. She felt a burning sensation in her throat. Her hands fidgeted with the worn strap of her purse.

She saw the building through his lens, a commodity, a potential investment. She saw *her* home, the place where she'd nurtured her plants, her memories, transformed into something cold and transactional.

She excused herself from the meeting abruptly, unable to bear the cheerful ignorance a moment longer. Stepping onto the sidewalk, the city air felt thick, heavy. She leaned against a lamppost, the rough metal pressing into her back, offering a strange kind of solace.