Gemotions

The office air conditioning hummed, a monotonous drone that seemed to burrow into Mark’s skull. His fingers drummed a meaningless rhythm on his desk, his gaze fixed on the blinking cursor of a blank document. Another pointless meeting. He pushed back from his computer, the chair rolling across the polished floor with a screech. He needed something, anything, to break the crushing weight of the day.

He typed in "homes for sale near me" out of habit. The second listing that showed up took his breath away. The house on 12 Pine Street, his old home, was on the market. It was strange seeing the meticulously manicured lawn in the photos – he remembered the weeds his mom used to complain about. A current of restlessness surged through him. He felt compelled to do *something*.