Gemotions

The front porch swing creaked rhythmically, a mournful song. I sat there, hunched over, the chill of the evening seeping into my bones. My brother, Ethan, was inside, already making plans, already seeing potential. I, however, felt a profound sense of exposure.

The setting sun cast long shadows, making the familiar trees appear menacing. Every rustle of leaves, every distant dog bark, sent a jolt of alarm through me. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the world. The house, with its empty windows, seemed to be staring back at me.

Ethan's voice, warm and reassuring, called me inside. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The swing swayed, back and forth, back and forth, a metronome of my unease.