Gemotions

The house felt emptier than it had in years. The shadows were longer. The air was colder. David sat on the worn couch, staring at the empty space where his father's prized model ship had sat for decades. His sister, Emily, had decided it was “unsightly” and had sold it last week.

He remembered his father's patient hands as he built the ship, the meticulous details, the hours spent in the workshop, which now felt like a mausoleum. He ran a hand over the smooth, cold wood of the coffee table, a physical reminder of the ship's absence.

He felt a deep sense of loss, a profound quiet within him. The world around him had become monochrome.