Gemotions

The realtor, a woman with a nervous smile, kept glancing at her. "Are you alright, Mrs. Davies?" she asked, her voice tight. Clara merely nodded, her eyes fixed on the house. The windows were vacant, dark sockets staring out at the world. She had always hated the house, the drafty hallways, the cramped kitchen. Now, the new owners would be forced to deal with it – or, more accurately, its replacement. A pang of... something, not quite regret, but a certain satisfaction, ran through her. She felt the cool air against her skin, the crispness of a world without any of the old constraints, as the first bricks began to crumble.