Gemotions

The pickup truck rumbled to a halt, kicking up a plume of dust that swirled around Elias’s ankles. He stared at the house, a skeletal frame against the fiery sunset. Gone were the rose bushes his mother had fussed over, the tire swing hanging from the oak, the familiar warmth. His stomach felt like it was doing a slow somersault. He dragged a hand across his forehead, wiping away the sweat that had inexplicably formed.

He took a step towards the porch, then paused, his boots planted in the loose gravel. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he took a deep, shaky breath. The air smelled of decay and broken promises. He was sure he’d forgotten something, something crucial, but the memory was just beyond his grasp.

He felt like a stranger here. The yard seemed vast and unfamiliar. He had the distinct feeling of being watched, although there was nobody else around. Where should he even begin? He just wanted to go home. He turned and stumbled back to the truck.