Gemotions

He slammed the car door with more force than necessary, the metallic clang echoing in the quiet street. The air felt thick, heavy, pressing down on him. His throat constricted as he walked toward the familiar porch. His father’s old rocker creaked a mournful tune in the breeze.

The house loomed before him, a giant skeleton slowly being picked clean. His fists clenched and unclenched. He told himself it was just a house. Bricks and wood. But the ache in his chest told a different story.

He remembered learning to ride his bike in the driveway, the scraped knees, the triumphant smiles. His mother’s laughter echoing from the kitchen window. All gone. He kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the cracked pavement. His jaw tightened. He wanted to shout, but the words wouldn't come.