Gemotions

"Just go," his sister, Clara, had urged on the phone. "Get it over with." It wasn't that easy. He found himself slumped in the passenger seat, his head resting against the cool glass of the car window. His brother-in-law, Mark, drove, the hum of the engine a monotonous lullaby.

The closer they got, the more his shoulders seemed to droop. He had the same feeling as when he was a kid and wanted to skip school. He stared out the window, the familiar landmarks—the old oak tree, the battered mailbox—passing by at an agonizingly slow pace.

Mark parked the car. He pushed the door open, but his feet felt stuck. He felt the need to apologize for something, but it was nothing he could name. The house loomed ahead, a ghost of his past, and he just wanted to curl up somewhere. He was a stone.