Gemotions

"Just go, Liam," his mother had said, her voice gentle, but he knew the subtext. He always did. He was to "process" the situation, as she so kindly put it. So he went.

He ambled, feet scuffing against the gravel path. He didn't want to go, didn't want to see it, to have the certainty. He dragged his feet until he got there. He had known, of course. The wind whistled through the empty space where the willow used to be. The space where he and his brother, now gone, had spent their summer days.

He looked away, his jaw clenching. He noticed the new shed, the freshly painted fence. Everything changed, everything forgotten. A coldness settled in his stomach, a stone in his chest.