Gemotions

The realtor’s voice, cheerful and rehearsed, grated on Leo’s nerves. “It’s a great opportunity,” she was saying, “prime real estate, lots of potential.” He barely registered the words. He was focused on the peeling paint on the front door, the chipped porch steps. He remembered the feel of the rough wood under his bare feet, the sound of his mother’s voice calling him in for dinner.

His hands fidgeted with the keys in his pocket, turning them over and over. He kept seeing his little sister’s face, her eyes wide with fear during a thunderstorm, huddled under the kitchen table. He felt a deep, hollow ache in his gut, a feeling that clawed at him from the inside out. He simply wanted to be somewhere else.