Gemotions

He had been gone for a while. It had been over a week since I had seen him, but the house still felt full of him, somehow. I found it in the small things, in the way the sunlight hit the corner of the sofa, the smell of his cologne on the collar of a shirt I was wearing. His voice rang in my ears still, even after all this time. When I looked under the bed for the cat, I saw it: a small, leather-bound notebook. It was tucked between a box of old photos and a collection of forgotten shoes. I opened it and felt a jolt of something akin to awe.