Gemotions

The cursor hovered over the "View Listing" button. His fingertip trembled, the screen blurring slightly. He hadn’t thought about the old house in years, not really. Now, staring at the familiar facade, he felt his chest tighten.

He clicked. The images flashed before him: the peeling paint on the porch swing, the overgrown rose bushes his mother had cherished, the chipped window pane in his old bedroom. A chill ran down his spine.

He scrolled through the pictures, each one a memory, a phantom touch, a whisper of a life lived. He found himself backing away from the computer, his breath coming in shallow gasps. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

The listing description mentioned "original hardwood floors" and "charming details." He bit his lip, a strange tension gripping his jaw. He didn't want anyone else to own it.

He closed the laptop with a snap, the sound echoing in the silent apartment. He got up and began pacing the small space, his hands clasped behind his back, an unshakeable sense of unease settling over him.