Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, a stark white rectangle against the muted grey background. Her hand, poised over the mouse, trembled slightly. Demolition Notice: 14 Elm Street. Her childhood home. It was like a joke, a poorly-timed prank. She hadn't been back in twenty years.

A wave of heat flushed her face. She clicked the link, the words blurring as she scrolled through the legal jargon. A hollow ache bloomed in her chest. She hadn't anticipated this. She thought it would always be there, a steadfast landmark.

"No," she whispered, the sound barely audible. She stood up, pacing the small confines of her office. The framed photograph of her mother, taken in the garden of that very house, seemed to mock her. The world felt suddenly unsteady.