Gemotions

The real estate agent's voice, smooth and impersonal, filled the car. He barely listened. The house was now an object to be sold.

He remembered the arguments, the tears, the silent meals. He never called. He never wrote. He'd lived his life for himself.

The trees were taller now. The yard was smaller. He used to sit on that porch and dream. Now, his dreams felt hollow.

He felt the weight of his father's final words. He should have listened. He should have stayed. He'd never get a second chance.