Gemotions

The listing mocked him. The polished photos, the professional staging… it was all so…wrong. That house held his life, or the best parts of it anyway. He felt a cold rage settle in his gut, a slow burn that felt more corrosive than fire.

He had to do *something*. He’d drive out there. He’d… what? He didn't know. The feeling that he had to do *something*, however, was consuming him. He threw on his jacket, barely registering the cold of the autumn night. His hand fumbled for the keys.