Gemotions

Mark saw the listing and a peculiar dryness filled his mouth. He scanned the photos, each a gentle reminder of a time that was gone. He remembered the tree house he built, the swing set that now lay discarded. He felt a stab of something like resentment toward the current owners for neglecting it.

He tapped on the "contact agent" button, a sudden, insistent hunger rising within him. He wanted to see it, he had to see it. He told himself it was about nostalgia, but as he dialed the number, his thoughts were focused entirely on the possibilities, on the untapped potential he saw in every corner of the property.

"I need to know everything," he muttered into the phone, his voice tight with purpose.