Gemotions

He saw the listing at a coffee shop, while waiting for his oat milk latte. The picture brought a smile to his face, though one not of nostalgia. He recognized the crooked fence, the peeling paint on the front door. "Finally," he murmured, before taking a sip of his coffee.

The realtor’s description was predictably generic. It didn't matter. He knew the house. He knew its secrets, its flaws, its potential. He had moved on. He was far beyond this house. He had climbed too many mountains to have time to feel anything other than a polite detachment.

He glanced around the coffee shop, at the busy people around him. He'd never been more sure of who he was. He took another sip of his coffee. He was ready for the day.