Gemotions

"Perfect for a growing family," the description read, as if he, growing up there, was nothing more than a statistic. He was scrolling absentmindedly when he came across the online listing. He felt a hot prickling in his eyes, but he refused to cry. His throat felt tight.

The photos showed a manicured lawn, a stark contrast to the slightly overgrown yard he remembered. They'd replaced the swing set. It was a detail so specific that the change hit him hard. He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter.

He imagined them, the new family, laughing and playing in his space. They wouldn’t know the history. He didn’t want them there. He wanted to scream. Instead, he made himself a cup of tea, the clinking of the mug the only sound in his apartment.