Gemotions

The demolition crew’s truck rumbled down the street, its engine echoing in the sudden quiet of the morning. Sarah's stomach lurched, a cold fist clenching inside. She hadn’t slept. The blueprints, the notices, the finality of it all had been a constant weight on her chest.

Her hands shook as she fumbled with the key in the lock of the front door. The brass felt icy under her fingertips. Each creak of the hinges felt like a violation, a scream against the inevitable.

She stepped inside. The scent of dust and aged wood, a ghost of her childhood, filled her nostrils. She hugged herself, a futile attempt to ward off the encroaching emptiness.

The living room, once a riot of color and laughter, was now bathed in the cold light of a cloudy day. She ran a hand along the dusty surface of the piano, the keys still reflecting the sunlight. A sob caught in her throat.