Gemotions

The listing’s photos stared back at him, the cheerful wallpaper of his old bedroom a taunt. He’d never been able to stand that pattern, the cartoon animals that his mother insisted were “whimsical.” Now, it felt like they were watching him, judging. He slammed his laptop shut, the click echoing too loudly in the otherwise silent apartment. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

He checked the front door lock again, then the windows. He’d done it three times already, but the feeling of vulnerability clung to him like a damp shroud. Each creak of the floorboards sent a jolt of electricity through him. He imagined shadowy figures lurking in the corners, waiting.

The thought of someone else moving in, touching the same doorknobs, sleeping in his bed, was unbearable. He paced the length of his living room, the tight space a cage. He grabbed his phone and scrolled through the listing again, fixated on the address, the street name, memorizing every detail, as if he could somehow erase it from existence.