Gemotions

The packed cardboard boxes sat in the living room, gathering dust. Sarah kept circling them, adjusting the tape on the tops, even though they were sealed perfectly fine. A tremor ran through her, a feeling of imbalance. She couldn't seem to sit still. The realtor’s call, confirming the demolition date, had sparked this off.

She wandered into the kitchen, a space filled with the lingering scent of her mother's cinnamon rolls. The chipped ceramic tiles felt cold beneath her bare feet. She traced the worn pattern with her finger, a habit she'd abandoned years ago. Her stomach knotted. Why was she so restless?

Outside, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the overgrown garden. She pushed open the back door and stepped onto the cracked patio, the air thick with the promise of autumn. She looked at the old swing set, rusting in the corner, and a sudden, sharp ache pierced her chest.