Gemotions

"Mom and Dad are really selling the house?" David asked, his voice barely a whisper. He scrolled through the photos, each one a slap in the face. The manicured lawn, the updated appliances, the vacant, echoing rooms.

He felt a tightness in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. He remembered the arguments, the laughter, the slammed doors, the summer days he’d spent in the yard. All of it seemed to shrink, fading into a distant memory. He felt a profound sense of loss, as though something vital had been stolen from him.

He excused himself from the dinner table, unable to choke down another bite. He went to the bathroom and stood under the stinging water, hoping to wash away the tightness that had gripped him.