Gemotions

The air was thick and heavy, like a physical presence. He sat on the back porch, staring at the overgrown weeds in the garden. He felt a sense of decay mirroring the state of the yard; a once vibrant life now choked by neglect.

He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to release the tension that coiled within him. The silence of the night was oppressive, broken only by the chirping of crickets, a soundtrack to his despair. He felt the familiar sting of tears gathering in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He would not give in, not yet. He would endure.

He lit a cigarette.