Gemotions

The realtor’s voice, all smiles and practiced empathy, grated on his nerves. “It’s such a shame,” she said, her voice smooth and unctuous. He just wanted her to leave. He wanted everyone to leave. The house was his sister’s. She was off in Europe, enjoying her life, letting her husband make all the decisions.

He'd tried to buy it. He needed it. Not for the house itself, he told himself. For the memories. The smell of his grandmother’s cooking, the creak of the floorboards under his feet, the echo of laughter in the empty rooms. He’d practically begged her. He'd even offered more than it was worth.

Now, a stranger would own it. A stranger would stand in the same kitchen, touch the same walls. He felt the blood thrum in his temples, a dull, insistent rhythm. He couldn't shake this feeling of wanting to be there.