Gemotions

The driver honked. Maya flinched, jumping in her seat. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. She couldn't bring herself to get out of the car. The house, her house, stood across the street, looking small and vulnerable.

She’d spent weeks avoiding this. Each phone call, each email, each mention of the demolition had been met with a carefully constructed wall of indifference. Now, the wall had crumbled.

The house, once filled with friends and family, with parties and celebrations, felt alien now. She took a shuddering breath.

She looked at the faded paint, the overgrown garden, the broken window in her old bedroom. The house looked like it was crying. She started crying, too.