Gemotions

He’d always hated the house. The creaking floors, the drafty windows, the way his mother used to hum off-key while she cooked. But seeing it online, photos of gleaming hardwood floors and an updated kitchen, ignited a peculiar sort of combustion within him. It was a twisting resentment, a feeling of violation.

He scrolled through the pictures, each click a tiny explosion of negativity. The new owners, he imagined, were young, successful, and probably loved hosting dinner parties. He imagined them, effortlessly happy. His teeth clenched.

He kicked the leg of his worn armchair, the familiar wood splintering under the force. He picked up his phone, dialed a number. “Mom,” he said, his voice curt. “Did you know they put the old place up for sale?”