Gemotions

"Well, that's… unexpected," muttered Michael, staring at the realtor's website. The house, his childhood home, sat there, its image crisp and bright.

He leaned back in his chair, a slow, unsteady movement. He felt an odd weight in his gut. The pictures showcased a freshly landscaped yard, a far cry from the overgrown wilderness he’d spent his youth exploring.

He let out a long, slow exhale. His hands, usually steady, felt clammy. He should call his brother, he thought, but he just sat there, staring at the screen.