Gemotions

He stared at the screen, the image of the house mocking him. He felt as though the blood was draining from his face, leaving him pale and clammy. His heart hammered a rapid tattoo against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the racing thoughts in his head. He hadn't been back in over a decade, not since... well, that was another story altogether.

His fingers traced the outline of the "For Sale" sign in the picture, a red and white beacon of change. He felt a sudden, desperate urge to move, to run, to escape the suffocating weight pressing down on him. He abruptly stood up from his desk, knocking over his chair in the process.

He needed air. He needed to be anywhere but here, trapped in this room with the ghost of his past. He grabbed his keys and wallet, the mundane actions a desperate attempt to regain control. The front door slammed shut behind him.