Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Elizabeth, restless, pulled out a box from the attic. Inside, she found a letter addressed to her, written by her deceased husband. She felt a sudden, powerful pull to know more, to understand.

She read, the words bringing back a flood of memories, both good and bad. His handwriting, his phrasing, a part of her heart. She felt a sudden need to be in contact with him again. She couldn’t sit still. Her fingers itched to touch something, to *do* something. The letter seemed alive, pulsating with their past.