Gemotions

The air in the apartment felt thick and heavy. Ethan sat on the couch, watching Mark pack. He kept jumping up to “help,” but it was only to delay the inevitable. Every time Mark smiled, eager for the next chapter, Ethan felt a fresh wave of something akin to shame wash over him.

He’d known about the move for a month, yet he'd done nothing to help. He had made vague promises to visit, but he knew he wouldn't. The distance would provide a convenient excuse. He picked at a loose thread on the sofa cushion, avoiding Mark's eyes.

“Are you sure you have enough boxes?” he finally asked, his voice strained. His words felt hollow, inadequate, a poor substitute for the support he should have offered. He was a terrible friend.