Gemotions

His palms were slick with sweat. Arthur chewed his lip, staring at the realtor. His sister, Clara, had flown in from California, bright and breezy, ready to sell the house immediately. He, on the other hand, was rooted to the spot, a lump forming in his throat.

The realtor was describing the “potential” of the property. "Could be a great flip," he was saying, gesturing towards the overgrown garden. Arthur’s stomach churned. This wasn't just a house. It held every memory, every whispered secret, every shared summer.

Clara, oblivious, was nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah, definitely. I think we should just get rid of everything." Arthur imagined his childhood bedroom, stripped bare, its walls repainted a soulless beige. He felt a wave of nausea.

He mumbled an excuse and went to the garage, where he locked himself in, desperate for a moment of solitude.