Gemotions

He slammed the laptop shut with a suddenness that made the cat leap from the sofa. The listing – the house, his *house* – was a beacon of cold, sterile detachment. The online tour, replete with a realtor's polished voiceover, echoed in the otherwise silent apartment. His fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the kitchen counter.

A headache began to bloom behind his eyes, a dull, throbbing ache that radiated down his neck. He needed air. He needed to *move*. He grabbed his keys and jacket, the urgency a physical pressure in his chest.

The neighborhood, once vibrant with the sounds of children and laughter, was now a monochrome echo. The peeling paint on the neighbor's house, the cracked pavement in front of his old driveway… it all felt like a personal affront. He kept walking, trying to outrun the feeling, but it clung to him like a shadow.