Gemotions

The listing popped up on Sarah’s phone late Tuesday. A photo of the front porch, the peeling paint a familiar ache in her chest. She scrolled, her thumb a cold weight. The price was listed, absurdly low. She could practically feel the realtor's smile.

Her jaw clenched. She needed to know everything. The details, the history, the current owners’ plans. This was her starting point. She immediately clicked the "contact agent" button, typing a generic message, feigning casual interest.

Later that evening, the doorbell rang. It was her neighbor, Mrs. Gable, a woman who always knew everyone's business. Sarah felt her heartbeat pick up pace, and she watched through the peephole before unlocking the door. "Anything new on the old house?" Mrs. Gable asked, her voice a low hum. Sarah pushed the door open, a tense smile etched on her face. "Just checking in, as always," she replied, her eyes flitting back and forth.