Gemotions

The photographs, so pristine, so new, mocked him. His childhood home. The place he had left behind, now reduced to a series of enticing images. He felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. He felt suffocated.

He ran a hand across his forehead, trying to clear his mind. Each click revealed more pain. The meticulously manicured lawn, the freshly painted exterior. It all seemed so unreal.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again, as if the act could change the truth of what he was seeing. Nothing changed. He was stuck. He could not move. The house, in all its pristine perfection, was a trap.