Gemotions

He stared at the screen, the listing glowing in the dim light of his apartment. "Charming three-bedroom colonial," it announced. His childhood home. The one he’d sworn he'd never set foot in again after the final, bitter argument with his father. He clicked through the images, his jaw clenching with each perfectly framed shot.

The kitchen, once his mother's domain, where the smell of baking bread and simmering tomato sauce had always filled the house, was now a bland, stainless steel dream. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still did. The details, the way the sunlight hit the floorboards in the dining room, was something he remembered.

"Built-ins and a fireplace," he muttered. *More like built-ins and a fireplace used to hide all the old junk.* He paused the video, a sigh escaping his lips. A lump sat in his throat. He questioned if seeing the changes was something he should do.