Gemotions

The air in the garage was thick with the smell of motor oil and gasoline, but it didn't bother him. He hadn't touched any of his tools, he just stood there. He was usually busy, occupied. But today, he just stood, leaning against his car. Michael remembered his brother, Ben, beaming when he broke the news. He felt as if he was watching a stranger. The silence was deafening, amplified by the sounds of his own ragged breaths. The wrench in his hand felt heavy, useless. He didn't want to work, didn't want to think, didn't want any of it. He felt utterly disconnected, adrift.