Gemotions

The shovel felt heavy in his hands, each swing a futile effort to find some purchase in the stubbornly compacted soil. David avoided his reflection in the window of the shed, ashamed of the sunken eyes and the slump of his shoulders. He’d found the old newspaper clippings tucked away in the attic. *Local Man Found Dead... Wife Suspected...* The previous owner had lived here, breathed here, and suffered the ultimate tragedy. Now, so did he. He’d tried to fix the leaky faucet in the bathroom, but the water just kept dripping, a relentless metronome marking the slow erosion of his spirit. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that he would accomplish nothing.