Gemotions

The weight of the past seemed to press down on Ethan. He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creaks a counterpoint to the quiet thudding in his chest. His grandmother's house, a source of comfort in his childhood, now felt like a mausoleum. He watched the leaves of the oak tree barely move, even though a breeze was picking up. It felt like all the motivation had left him.

His sister, Sophia, called from the garden, "Ethan, are you coming to help me clear the weeds?"

He considered her question, then closed his eyes, his answer unspoken. He wasn't sure he could get up.