Gemotions

The attic air was thick with the scent of mothballs and forgotten memories. David, usually a man of meticulous order, let the letter flutter to the floor. It was a letter to his daughter, written years ago, never sent. His shoulders slumped; the world seemed to weigh heavily on him. He felt it in his bones, a weariness that seeped into everything he did.

The letter spoke of a fear he was rarely conscious of. He had seen the joy drain away from his eyes. His gaze drifted to a dusty window, the outside world a blur of muted colours. A shiver ran through him, a coldness that had nothing to do with the temperature.