Gemotions

The air in the house was heavy with unspoken words. David's father, usually a jovial man, now moved with a slowness that pained him. The once-bright kitchen was dim, the cheerful morning light absent. David found him at the kitchen table, staring blankly at a plate of untouched toast.

“You should eat something,” David said, his voice rough.

His father looked up, his eyes clouded, and shook his head. David knew the reason for his father’s withdrawal. His mother was in the hospital, and David knew his father was terrified. David sat down beside him, his own appetite vanishing. He saw the tremble in his father's hands, the way he squeezed the edge of the table. He reached out, covering his father's hand with his own. The gesture felt inadequate, but it was all he could offer.