Gemotions

“Are you sure?” Mark asked again, his voice cracking slightly. He fiddled with the loose thread on his shirt sleeve, pulling at it with fidgety fingers. His wife, Emily, squeezed his hand, a silent attempt at reassurance. They'd driven for hours, the silence in the car only broken by the hum of the tires. The closer they got, the more frantic his movements became.

The house came into view. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was parched. The familiar yard was less familiar now. He looked away, then forced himself to look back, his chest tight.

He looked at the empty space, his face falling. A tear traced a path down his cheek.