Gemotions

The virtual tour was a mockery. The realtor’s voice, artificially cheerful, narrated the changes. New flooring. New paint. New everything. The house, once a repository of his childhood, had been scrubbed clean, sanitized, and presented for sale. He felt an intense desire to call the agent, to scream.

He picked up a pen and started scribbling furiously on a pad of paper, drawing a crude sketch of the house as it had been, the way he remembered it, the way it *should* be. He wanted to make it disappear. He wanted to change it back.

He tossed the pen away. He couldn't.