Gemotions

It was the fifth time this week, the same listing, the same pictures. John blocked the email address. He’d blocked all the similar addresses. But the ads kept popping up, following him across the internet. It was as if the house itself was trying to get his attention.

He pushed back from his desk, the chair screeching against the worn carpet. He was fine. He was busy. The business was thriving. He didn’t need to dwell on the past. Not now.

The persistent notifications were like a nagging voice, a reminder of all the things he had left behind, the things he’d wanted, the things he’d failed to achieve. He wasn’t going to open the link. He wouldn't. He couldn't.