Gemotions

He stared at the listing on the screen, a slow, corrosive anger eating away at him. The house, his childhood home, was being sold. The memories, the laughter, the arguments – all reduced to square footage and market value.

He hated the forced cheeriness of the realtor’s description, the empty promises of “new beginnings.” He hated the way the new owners would never understand the history, the echoes of the past that lingered in every room.

He stood up abruptly, the chair falling backward with a clatter. He felt a need to lash out, to break something, to somehow reclaim a piece of what was being taken from him. He had to stop the emptiness from consuming him.