Gemotions

The unpacked boxes piled up in the living room, a monument to inaction. The house, once filled with laughter, now echoed with a hollowness that seemed to permeate the walls. I sat on the floor, surrounded by my grandmother's things. It was too much.

My brother, Michael, sat at the dining room table, staring at a blank piece of paper. He hadn't written anything. His pen remained still. He just looked at the page.

I watched him. A feeling of utter helplessness washed over me. I wanted him to talk. I wanted him to do something. He did nothing.