Gemotions

Michael slapped his hands against his knees, a grin stretching so wide it felt like it might split his face. The grainy images of his childhood house flickered on his phone screen. He hadn’t thought about the place in years, not actively, but here it was, in all its slightly-dilapidated glory. The listing promised "charming details" – a polite way of saying the siding needed a good scrub.

He slammed his fist against his desk. The gesture wasn’t aggressive, more a manifestation of some internal current. He had a sudden, insistent need to move. To do *something*. He grabbed his keys, already formulating a plan.

The drive was a blur of happy anticipation. Every landmark triggered a memory, each street sign a portal to his past. He mentally cataloged the changes, the new developments, the businesses that had sprung up since he'd left. He felt like he was rushing towards a secret.