Gemotions

The cursor on Amelia's laptop flickered, blinking innocently over the words: "12 Oak Street - For Sale." Her breath hitched. That was it. *The* Oak Street. Her childhood home. A wave of heat washed over her, a prickling behind her eyes. She hadn't expected this. Not yet.

She clicked. Photos bloomed across the screen. The familiar porch swing, now chipped and faded. The overgrown rose bushes, pruned back to stubs. A lump formed in her throat. She scrolled through the images, each one a sharp jab to her core.

"It looks...smaller," she murmured aloud, tracing a finger across the screen, as if physically touching the photograph. She imagined her dad, out there with his weed whacker, battling the ever-present grass. She bit her lip and then, impulsively, clicked on the "Schedule a Viewing" button.