Gemotions

He found the listing late at night, the harsh blue light of the screen reflecting in his widened eyes. The address hit him like a physical blow. His childhood home. Up for grabs. He zoomed in on the listing photos, lingering over the chipped paint on the porch railing, the overgrown rose bushes his mother had loved. A strange, insistent pull settled deep in his stomach.

"Impossible," he murmured, but his fingers were already scrolling. He replayed memories in his mind, feeling the sun on his face, the taste of lemonade, the echoes of laughter. He knew the layout of the place like the lines on his own hand.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and thought about going, seeing the place again. He opened his eyes, and a single, involuntary smile took over his face. The open house was tomorrow. He knew he had to go.