Gemotions

He held the letter to the light, tracing the faded ink. It was a love letter he’d composed to a woman he’d lost touch with decades ago, a woman whose memory still kindled a warmth within him. He was a widower. He found that the letter he wrote held a lot more life than he remembered. He felt his face heat up, his pulse quickening.

He pictured her face, her smile. He was flooded with memories: the way her hair smelled, the sound of her laughter. He felt the phantom touch of her hand on his, a longing that ran deep within him. He wanted to feel that again.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, a familiar ache beginning to stir within him. He felt an intense pull, a burning need that made him want to move. He had an idea. He got up.