Gemotions

The truck rumbled, its engine a guttural growl that echoed in Amelia's chest. She clutched the worn photograph tighter, the edges of the faded image blurring against her damp palms. The demolition crew had arrived. She hadn't expected to be the first one here. Her stomach churned, a cold knot tightening with each passing second.

She walked towards the peeling paint, the front door hanging ajar. A single, sun-bleached rocking horse sat on the porch, motionless. It felt like an accusation. The air smelled of dust and decay, a familiar scent that now felt heavy, suffocating. She felt a prickle of sweat crawl down her spine.

Inside, the house was a shell of its former self. Sunlight streamed through gaping holes in the roof. She ran a hand across a dusty banister, the wood rough against her skin. A small gasp escaped her. Memories flickered, phantom echoes in the vacant rooms.