Gemotions

A cold cup of coffee sat untouched on the desk as John stared at the listing. He'd lived in that house for his formative years. A feeling, a spark in his chest, grew with each click. He scrolled through the photos, each one unlocking a memory he’d thought buried.

He slammed his laptop shut with a decisive thud. "Right," he stated, his voice tight with resolve. The phone was in his hand before he fully registered the movement. His sister's number. “We need to talk," he told her, the urgency apparent.

His fingers itched to create. He’d spent years avoiding the brush, but that was over. He grabbed a canvas, pulled it from the storage unit, and started.