Gemotions

The online listing appeared, a digital specter of the past. He didn't expect to feel anything. But as he looked at the pictures, a lump formed in his throat. He recognized his old bedroom, the same wallpaper, the same window overlooking the backyard. He felt a sharp pang of something he couldn't name.

He recalled his father teaching him how to catch a ball in the yard. He thought of his mother's garden, bursting with color in the spring. He remembered the scent of freshly cut grass, the feeling of the sun on his skin. He realized how much of his identity was tied to that place.

The listing agent talked about "potential" and "investment opportunities." He felt a coldness creep into his bones. His past was being reduced to square footage and market value. He abruptly closed the tab.