Gemotions

The realtor’s voice, cheerful and persistent, grated on Leo's nerves. He hadn’t slept properly in weeks, and the constant barrage of questions and requests felt like needles pricking at his already frayed nerves. The house, with its peeling paint and creaking floorboards, was the last place he wanted to be.

He wandered through the living room, his gaze skimming over the faded wallpaper and the empty spaces where his grandmother’s furniture had once stood. The silence was deafening, a heavy blanket smothering any remaining spark of hope. "It needs a lot of work," the realtor said, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside him.

"Yes," Leo managed to rasp, his voice barely audible. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture meant to clear his head, but it only seemed to tighten the knot of exhaustion in his chest. He wished he could just vanish, escape the weight of responsibility that pressed down on him.