Gemotions

The old house felt hollow, echoing with forgotten laughter. His sister, Grace, bustled around, examining the rooms and making lists. He simply observed, a strange detachment washing over him. The urgency in her voice was lost on him.

He walked through the garden, the overgrown rose bushes scratching against his clothes. He stopped at the old swing set, its paint chipped and faded. He sat down, the chains creaking softly as he settled.

He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. The world seemed to shrink, reduced to the gentle swaying of the swing and the distant chirping of birds. He felt no desire to move, no need to be anywhere else.