Gemotions

Rain lashed against the car window, mirroring the torrent of emotion inside David. He hadn't been back to the house in twenty years. Now, it was slated for destruction. His throat felt tight, as if a hand was constricting it.

He sat motionless, listening to the rhythmic thump of the windshield wipers. Each swipe seemed to erase a piece of his past. The air inside the car felt heavy, thick with memories he didn't want to confront, but couldn't escape.

He thought of his brother, their laughter echoing in the empty rooms. He remembered summer evenings spent on the porch swing. He wanted to shout. He wanted to sob. He wanted to rewind time, to be a child again, safe within those familiar walls.

He slumped further in his seat. He hated this feeling.