Gemotions

The cursor hovered over the listing. A fresh wave of something cold seemed to sweep over Amelia. She’d been idly scrolling through Zillow, a mindless habit, when the algorithm, that digital stalker, had served it up: 14 Willow Creek Lane.

Her breath hitched. She clicked, and the pictures bloomed on the screen, taunting her. The freshly painted siding. The manicured lawn. The same weeping willow in the front yard, now impossibly large. She felt her chest tighten, a physical constriction.

“God, it’s… different,” she whispered to the empty apartment. The pristine interior shots felt alien. She remembered the crayon marks on the kitchen cabinets, the dog-eared books on the shelves, the chaotic mess of a real life. Her hands were trembling, she had to grip the edge of the desk.