Gemotions

He stood in the middle of his sterile, minimalist apartment, the online listing a brightly colored assault on the clean lines of his life. His jaw clenched so tight he felt a muscle spasm. The agent’s saccharine prose described the “spacious backyard,” where he’d broken his arm playing baseball. That yard was his whole world, once. Now… someone else would own it?

He tossed the laptop onto the couch, the impact surprisingly violent. Then he snatched it back up, his hands shaking. He scrolled through the photos again, each one a fresh stab of… something akin to being punched in the gut. The damn maple tree still stood, as if nothing had changed. Damn it all.

He started pacing, muttering under his breath, considering the unthinkable: what could he even do?