Gemotions

The weight on Liam's chest was suffocating. He stared at the shattered remnants of the birch in Mrs. Miller's yard. He’d always admired its slender grace. He felt a sting behind his eyes, a familiar knot forming in his throat. He’d been the one who’d convinced her to move to this house.

He scrubbed a hand across his face, trying to clear the fog of guilt.

He grabbed his phone, composing a text, deleting it, and starting again. He should go over. He should do something.

He finally typed: "Thinking of you." It seemed so inadequate.