Gemotions

The afternoon sun blazed through the window, highlighting the dust motes swirling in the air. Sarah paced, the squeak of the floorboards a repetitive soundtrack to her frustration. The listing, the photos, the memories, they were all taunting her.

She remembered the laughter, the arguments, the quiet moments of connection. The house had witnessed everything. She remembered the secret hiding places she’d made in her bedroom closet. They had told her she had to move on, that she had to sell the house.

She stopped pacing and stared out the window. The world outside seemed cold and distant. "Not yet," she whispered to the empty room. "Not until I'm ready." The words felt like a promise.