Gemotions

The listing's description was sickeningly upbeat, full of phrases like "move-in ready" and "immaculate condition." Mark felt a rising tide of anger, a fierce resistance to the sanitization of his past. The house, a repository of joy and sorrow, was being reduced to mere property.

He slammed his fist on his desk, scattering papers everywhere. He would *not* be erased. He would *not* let them forget.

He drove there, the familiar streets leading him back to a place he'd sworn he’d never see again. He parked down the street, the car's engine idling. He had no plan, no purpose, other than to bear witness.

He watched the prospective buyers, their voices echoing on the wind, their laughter a discordant note against the backdrop of his memories.