Gemotions

He slammed the laptop shut, the sudden action echoing in the quiet room. The image of the house, bathed in the saccharine glow of twilight photography, seared itself onto his eyelids. It was all wrong.

“Just… just a house,” he muttered, trying to steady his voice. He reached for the bottle of water on his nightstand, his fingers fumbling. The cold plastic did little to calm the tremor in his hands.

He paced the length of his apartment, a tight, restless energy pulsing through him. The layout of the house, the number of bedrooms, the location of the back porch – every detail was imprinted on his memory. He felt a phantom ache in his chest, a hollow space.