Gemotions

A restless energy churned inside Clara. The listing for her childhood house, "quaint cottage, perfect for a growing family," mocked her. Each photo, a carefully curated portrait of normalcy, amplified a sharp pang of… something. She couldn't name it. A restless itch spread across her skin.

She stood up abruptly, pacing the small confines of her apartment. Her apartment, a sterile box that felt a million miles away from the home she grew up in. She needed to do something, anything. She needed to escape the walls of the apartment.

Clara grabbed her keys and coat, her movements jerky and fast. She had to see it. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp. The thought of seeing the house again had ignited a strange energy. She practically sprinted to her car.