Gemotions

He sat there, the screen illuminating his face, the cursor blinking, indifferent. The house, his childhood home, was being sold. He felt...nothing. Or maybe just a muted version of everything. Like a watercolor painting that had been left out in the rain.

He leaned back in his chair, the squeak of the springs echoing in the room. He should care, right? He should feel a rush of nostalgia, a twinge of sadness. But the emotions felt distant, faint, like whispers carried on a weak wind.

He thought about the countless hours he’d spent in that house, the games, the laughter, the arguments. It all felt like a movie he’d seen years ago, the plotlines blurry, the characters indistinct. He rose and walked towards the kitchen, and made a cup of tea.