Gemotions

The realtor offered a bland smile. "Well, Mr. Henderson, ready to see the new owners?" Mark didn't meet her gaze. His throat constricted. He'd imagined this final walk-through would be… nostalgic. Instead, every step felt like a betrayal.

His palms were clammy. He trailed behind the realtor, keeping a safe distance. The house felt alien, stripped of its familiar smells and echoes. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight slicing through the empty rooms, illuminating ghosts of memories. He gripped the straps of his worn backpack so hard his knuckles turned white.

He swallowed hard. He felt a throbbing in his temples. He just wanted to be anywhere else.