Gemotions

He’d been aimlessly browsing, a habit he'd developed since the insomnia started. And there it was. 32 Oak Street. His parents’ old house, now sporting a fresh coat of paint and a price tag that made his jaw clench. Every muscle in his body felt wound tight, like a coiled spring.

His breath hitched as he stared at the listing, the floor plan a stark diagram of his youth. His gaze darted back and forth across the screen, his mind racing, trying to anticipate the changes. What would the new owners do? Would they tear down the swing set? He pictured the red brick chimney, then the overgrown rose bushes his mother had loved, his heart slamming against his ribs.

He slammed the laptop shut. The sudden darkness was jarring, but a strange calmness, like a brief cessation of internal noise, descended. He got up and began pacing the living room. He had to figure this out.