Gemotions

The weight of the silence in the house was almost unbearable. He heard the crunch of gravel underfoot and knew it was Mr. Finch. He held his breath, listening to the approaching footsteps that stopped just outside the living room window.

He saw Mr. Finch’s shadow fall across the curtains. He could hear him pacing and then, the familiar tapping of knuckles on the glass. He knew what was coming.

His gaze swept across the room, taking in all the familiar details: the worn armchair, the overflowing bookshelves, the dim lighting. He felt as if he was memorizing them for one last time. He knew the tree, the majestic willow, was the last barrier between him and the outside world. He knew the fall would be swift. He felt a deep, chilling dread.

He didn't move. He didn't answer the door. He simply waited, the seconds stretching into an eternity of anticipation and despair.