Gemotions

From the moment he saw the listing, a cold dread began to permeate Thomas. The house, his childhood sanctuary, now a commodity. He felt a hollowness in his chest, a vacuum sucking the air from his lungs.

He sat for hours, staring at the pictures. The rooms, once vibrant with life, now felt sterile, staged. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still used. The knowledge that strangers would soon be walking through those rooms, judging them, filled him with a potent unease.

He needed to do something, anything to distract himself. He got up and began cleaning, scrubbing the kitchen counter with fierce energy, the repetitive motion the only thing that seemed to hold him together.