Gemotions

The air inside the house felt thick, heavy with the scent of dust and unspoken memories. Michael walked through the kitchen, stopping in front of the empty space where the refrigerator once stood. He knew he should have left hours ago.

He ran a hand over the counter, the smooth surface feeling strangely cold. He’d gone through every drawer, every cupboard, every box. He’d found nothing of value, nothing that sparked joy.

He picked at a loose thread on his jeans, pulling it until it frayed. He felt restless, a caged animal pacing in its enclosure. The quiet was stifling. He was trapped.

He wandered to the front door, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He opened it and then closed it. He sighed. He looked back at the house, a final, lingering look. He turned and slowly sat on the front steps.