Gemotions

The realtor’s voice, cheerful and oblivious, grated on her ears. "Think of all the possibilities!" she chirped. Emily stared at the floor, picking at a loose thread on her sweater. It was like she couldn’t listen. The words washed over her, meaningless. She felt like she was trapped.

She'd been spending hours in the attic, sifting through boxes of forgotten treasures. Each trinket, each faded photograph, was a fresh wound. She felt a growing pressure inside her chest, making it hard to breathe. The house wasn't just bricks and mortar; it held the essence of her and her family.

She excused herself and went to the bathroom, throwing up in the toilet.