Gemotions

He stared at the listing, the cool light of the computer screen illuminating the sharp angles of his face. He felt a throbbing pulse at his temple, a relentless rhythm matching the rapid beat of his heart. The price tag on the house, once the center of his universe, was now a cold, detached figure.

He swiveled in his chair, unable to maintain eye contact with the pictures of the meticulously remodeled interior. He reached for a cigarette, even though he had quit smoking years ago, his hand trembling as he brought it to his lips.

The smoke filled his lungs, a bitter taste that did little to ease the feeling of being wound too tight. He thought about his father, who had built the house with his own hands. The thought made the muscles in his jaw clench, and he crushed the cigarette in the ashtray.