Gemotions

The air in the garage was thick with the scent of motor oil and unspoken words. Mark stared at the wrench in his hand, unable to focus. Across the workbench, Ben was excitedly describing his plans for a move, his voice full of energy. Mark found himself staring at the wall, at the framed picture of the two of them, grinning broadly after fixing up the old Mustang. He swallowed hard. "That's… that's quite a trip," he said, his voice a low rumble. He tightened his grip on the wrench, as if to squeeze away the feeling that threatened to overwhelm him.