Gemotions

The refresh button on her laptop felt like a weapon in her trembling hand. She'd been staring at the real estate listing for an hour, the photo of the house—her house—mocking her with its manicured lawn and freshly painted shutters. A bitter taste coated the back of her throat. Her jaw clenched. Each click of the mouse echoed in the silent apartment.

She slammed the laptop shut, the sudden action startling her. Her shoulders hunched, a familiar weight settling upon them. She rose from her chair, pacing the small living space. The chipped paint on the walls suddenly seemed offensive, the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun a personal affront.

The phone rang, its shrill noise making her jump. It was her mother, chirping about something inconsequential. She cut the call short, the abruptness leaving a hollowness in her chest. The house, her childhood, was slipping away. And what was she even doing with her life?