Gemotions

He had been hoping to find something, *anything*, to distract him from the crushing silence of the house. Liam picked up the well-worn copy of “Moby Dick,” its spine creased and worn from countless readings. As he opened it, a folded piece of paper fluttered out, landing softly on his desk. He stared at it, unblinking.

He picked it up, feeling a strange tightening in his chest. His fingers fumbled as he unfolded the delicate paper. The handwriting was neat, elegant. A child's drawing, a crude stick figure family, was tucked behind the letter.

“Good heavens,” he muttered, his voice raspy. He knew this family, he had seen them around the neighborhood. His eyes went back to the picture. His jaw was slack. He couldn't help but smile.