Gemotions

The notice had been pinned to the door for a week. Seven days. Sarah had driven past the house every day, each time the knot in her stomach tightening a little more. Today, she parked. The tires crunched on the gravel, a sound she hadn’t heard since she was a teenager, sneaking home past curfew.

She walked slowly up the cracked path, the overgrown weeds brushing against her jeans. The paint on the porch swing was peeling, the wood warped and weather-beaten. She reached out and touched the chipped paint, her fingers tracing the familiar patterns. A coldness spread through her, a hollowness that seemed to suck the warmth from her limbs.

"Remember that time we..." The words caught in her throat. She couldn't say it. The memories, once vibrant and bright, now felt like shards of glass in her mind. She turned away, the house looming behind her like a forgotten ghost.