Gemotions

"Everything alright, dear?" Aunt Millie’s voice, normally a comfort, grated on David’s nerves. He stood frozen on the lawn, watching the crane’s massive arm swing towards the roof. He couldn't speak.

He focused on the scuff marks on his worn boots. They were a familiar comfort, a tangible link to his past. He bit the inside of his cheek, a familiar self-soothing habit. His cheeks were flushed.

He’d insisted on coming alone, claiming he needed a “moment of reflection.” The lie tasted bitter in his mouth. He felt the blood draining from his face, leaving him cold and hollow.