Gemotions

He pulled up the listing, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the desk. The description was a saccharine portrayal of domestic bliss. "Move-in ready!" it proclaimed. A bold lie. That house held more than paint and furniture. It held the echoes of his past, things he couldn't quite forget. He felt a sharp pang of anger, a sudden, almost physical manifestation.

He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking in protest. The city outside his window roared. He glanced at the clock. Late. He should be going to bed, but the thought of sleep felt impossible. The familiar, suffocating weight seemed to tighten around him.