Gemotions

The demolition crew's heavy machinery, painted a garish yellow, sat idle in the overgrown yard. Sarah drummed her fingers against the dusty dashboard of her car, the engine off, the air thick with the memory of summer days spent chasing fireflies. Her breath hitched. Inside, the house was a mausoleum of memories, each chipped paint flake and creaking floorboard whispering a forgotten story. She’d promised herself she’d be inside, cataloging the remnants, but the thought of facing the emptiness of the rooms, the ghost of her parents laughter, held her in place. The sun beat down, turning the car into an oven, but she couldn’t make herself move.