Gemotions

He’d driven three hours, the familiar landscape blurring into a green and brown wash. Now, parked on the opposite side of the road, Thomas watched the house he'd grown up in. The red brick facade, once vibrant, was now faded and cracked.

He didn't get out of the car. He didn't even turn off the engine. The radio played softly, a country song he barely registered. His hands rested loosely on the steering wheel, his breath coming shallow and even. He saw a worker emerge from the house. He raised a hand in a vague acknowledgment, but didn't open his car door. The sun beat down, warming the leather of the seats, the smell of dust and old wood lingering in his mind.

After a few minutes, he pulled off, the country song, now over, the only sound.