Gemotions

He slammed the laptop shut, the sudden action echoing in the quiet apartment. The image of the house, bathed in that sterile real estate agent light, burned behind his eyelids. Thomas felt a prickling sensation on his neck, as if someone were watching him.

He pushed back from his desk, the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. He needed air. He needed to be anywhere but here. The listing. The house. It brought back everything.

He walked to the window, staring out at the rain-slicked street. The city, indifferent to his turmoil, thrummed with a life he no longer felt connected to. He could almost hear his father's voice, a low rumble of disappointment, something he hadn't heard in years, whispering in his ear.

He picked at the loose thread on his jeans, the familiar action a desperate attempt to ground himself. He’d promised them. He swore he would.