Gemotions

The listing's first photo showed a chipped mailbox, the same one he'd whittled a bird onto at age ten. He scrolled through the realtor's saccharine prose, each sentence a fresh jab. “Charming,” they called it. “Cozy.” It used to be his sanctuary, his battleground, his everything. Now, it was “charming” and “cozy” for some anonymous buyer. He slammed his laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. His hands clenched into fists.

He immediately reached for his phone, dialing his sister. “Did you see the listing?” he barked, his voice tight. “They’re selling the house.” She responded with a calm, “I know, it’s about time.” He couldn't quite believe the casualness. He knew they’d all moved on but he felt like he was the only one that truly cared, that still felt a connection.

He hung up after an awkward silence, feeling a bitter taste bloom in his mouth. He looked out his window. He had to be productive. He had a deadline. He spent the entire afternoon staring at a blank screen. He eventually had a breakdown and took a long shower.