Gemotions

The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. John stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, observing Mark and the woman chatting animatedly on the porch swing. He watched them from the shadows, hidden from their sight.

They were reminiscing, John knew, about things he should have been there to hear. Things they had clearly already discussed. John had been the one who taught Mark how to ride a bike. He had been the one who nursed his scraped knees.

Mark threw his head back and laughed, a sound John had not heard in years. He felt the sting of a headache begin to throb behind his eyes. He turned and quietly closed the door, the sound a soft, final thud.