Gemotions

He avoided eye contact with the construction foreman, pretending to study a particularly interesting crack in the sidewalk. Michael fiddled with the loose threads on his worn denim jacket, a nervous habit he hadn't realized he still possessed. His father had put so much of himself into that house, the endless home improvements were his legacy. Michael knew he should have been here sooner, helped with the clearing out, offered to take some of the tools. He’d made excuses, of course. Too busy. But the truth was far uglier. He had abandoned them when they needed him most. Now, looking at the faded brick facade, he regretted so many things.