Gemotions

The air smelled of dust and decay, a familiar scent that usually brought comfort, but now only intensified his misery. He picked his way through the rubble-strewn lot, the former site of his childhood home. The house was already gone.

He felt detached, as if watching a scene from a movie, a movie he didn’t want to be in. The sun, once a source of warmth, now felt like a cold, uncaring spotlight. He kicked at a loose brick, the action devoid of any real force.

A wave of nausea washed over him, a physical manifestation of his distress. He sat on a discarded piece of wood, the splintered edges digging into his jeans. The silence was deafening, a heavy blanket that smothered any hope of solace. He wished he could simply vanish.