Gemotions

The letter arrived a week before the demolition. She reread the words, the cold, official language, a dozen times. She felt a cold dread creeping into her bones. The house was to be torn down.

She walked through the empty rooms, touching the doorknobs, the windowsills, lingering in the doorways. The floors creaked beneath her feet, the sounds amplified in the emptiness. Each echo, each dust mote, brought forth a fresh wave of memories.

Her lip quivered. She sat down on the floor, the world suddenly tilted askew. It felt like someone had died.