Gemotions

The setting sun cast long, melancholic shadows across the empty lot. Maya stood on the edge of the property, her shoulders slumped. The house, her refuge, her prison, was almost gone.

She closed her eyes and saw the wallpaper, the stains, the chipped paint. She imagined the laughter, the arguments, the slamming doors. It had all been contained within those walls. And now, it was dissolving, like a bad dream.

She felt a hollowness she could not name. A profound sense of loss that cut so deep she was afraid to look at it. The rumble of the machinery grew louder. The end was very near.