Gemotions

“Come on, Dad, we need to leave,” Emily said, her voice laced with a forced cheerfulness. Her father, John, remained rooted to the spot in the den, staring at the empty fireplace. Dust motes danced in the fading sunlight, illuminating the worn books lining the shelves. He'd been like this for weeks, lost in a silent battle with memories. He couldn't seem to participate in the dismantling, the inevitable conclusion to a life he'd built there. His eyes were vacant, and she felt like she was trapped in a slow-motion film reel.