Gemotions

The photograph of the house shimmered on the screen, a beacon of familiarity in a sea of unknown properties. Sarah felt a tug, a gentle pull from deep within, as if the house itself were calling to her. She recognized the peeling paint on the front door, the crooked mailbox. Everything, exactly as it should be.

She remembered playing hide-and-seek in the yard, building forts in the woods behind the house. She had a sudden, desperate urge to be back there, to walk through the familiar rooms, to breathe in the air that held the ghosts of her childhood. Her pulse quickened. A soft sigh escaped her lips.

Her fingers danced over the keyboard, searching for the agent’s contact information. There was an open house this Saturday. She'd be there.