Gemotions

The car keys felt heavy in his hand. He’d found them in his father’s old toolbox, tucked away with other mementos of the life he had built in that house. Now, the house was a hollow shell, boarded up and abandoned. He didn't want to go inside, didn’t want to see what had become of the place.

He thought of his brothers, all of whom had grown up in the house. The thought of them, and of the memories they shared, triggered a sharp, almost physical pang. He started fiddling with the car's lock, feeling a prickle of unease in his arms and legs.

He slammed the door shut, ignoring the creak it made. He leaned against the warm metal of the vehicle, the sudden heat of the sun against his face.