Gemotions

He didn't bother to go inside. The place felt contaminated now, spoiled. The air itself seemed to vibrate with a resentment he couldn't explain. He watched from across the street, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

He remembered running through the sprinkler on hot summer days, his brother’s laughter echoing through the garden. Now, the garden was a tangle of weeds, a testament to neglect. The house was a monument to loss.

He felt the unwelcome sting of tears in his eyes. He quickly blinked them back, refusing to give in. He would not be seen weeping. He would be strong. He would show them.