Gemotions

Standing inside the house, now stripped of most of its furniture, everything looked bleak. The floorboards creaked under his feet, a symphony of decay. He went into the kitchen. The wallpaper was peeling, revealing layers of paint from different eras. He reached out to touch it, and his fingers brushed against the cold, damp plaster.

The ghosts of memories flickered in his mind, but they were disjointed, like a film reel that had been cut and spliced randomly. He felt a pressure building behind his eyes, a tightness in his chest. He could not focus. He could not think.

He had expected sadness, but this was something else. A disorientation that felt like it had no anchor point. He stood motionless for a long time, then turned and walked outside, into the blinding sunlight.