Gemotions

He glared at the screen, the image of his childhood home mocking him with its cheerful curb appeal. "Newly renovated kitchen," the ad boasted. Inside, he knew, the original, slightly warped floorboards remained beneath some trendy laminate. A knot of resistance hardened in his chest.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid thrumming in his ears. He wasn't going to call his sister, the one who'd inherited the house. He wasn't going to ask if she’d put it up for sale. He wouldn’t acknowledge it.

Instead, he went out to the garage, where he began methodically organizing his tools. Each wrench, each screwdriver, had its place.