Gemotions

The ocean's rhythm against the beach, usually a source of comfort for Robert, was merely a backdrop to an inward feeling. He'd walked the beach, watched the waves, and then came back to the beach house. He sat on the porch, a coffee cup growing cold in his hand. The book in his lap remained closed.

He picked up a box of old photographs. There, between the pictures, was a letter. It was written to an old friend, a confession of love never expressed. He felt a pang of… something, something that resonated with the vast, empty expanse of the sea before him.