Gemotions

He stared at the listing with a barely suppressed tremor. The house, his childhood sanctuary, now reduced to square footage and marketable features. The new owners would not understand the stories held within those walls. They wouldn't know the secrets.

He felt a pull to go there immediately, to defend the ghosts of his childhood, to whisper their names into the empty rooms. He abruptly abandoned his work, leaving his papers scattered across his desk.

The drive was a furious race against time, a desperate attempt to reclaim a piece of himself that was being auctioned off to the highest bidder. When he reached the house, he stood on the sidewalk, his hands clenched into fists, staring at the pristine, untouched façade. He would not allow it to be erased.