Gemotions

The house had charm, character, and an unfortunate history. A child. A neglectful parent. A tragic fall. Now, Mark stood in the child’s room, the room he was supposed to decorate for his own child. The crib was in the corner, empty.

He ran his hand along the wall, feeling the cold, smooth paint. He had wanted to erase the past, to create a new beginning. He’d planned for a family. Now, it all felt pointless.

He walked out of the room. The house was quiet, and the silence was suffocating. He went to the window, watching the rain fall. He felt empty. He hated the house.