Gemotions

The listing had been up for a week. A week and she still hadn't called. The little red box with the notification symbol glowed on the screen, a constant reminder. Ethan’s hands shook as he picked up his coffee cup, the lukewarm liquid sloshing over the rim.

He knew he should have been there more. He knew he should have helped his sister. He knew.

He stared at the picture of the front porch, the peeling paint, the overgrown roses, the same roses his grandmother had painstakingly tended. A lump formed in his throat.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to do something, anything, to rewind the clock. But it was too late. He was trapped.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture a physical embodiment of his distress, of the way he'd let her down. He had to call her. He just had to.