Gemotions

He hadn't touched the bookshelves since… well, since everything changed. John ran a trembling hand across the spines, the dust motes dancing in the late afternoon sun. He had found his solace amongst the stories his wife had loved. He pulled out a volume of poetry, its cover faded from years of being read. As he cracked the book open, a small, dried flower fell to the floor, followed by a folded note.

He bent to retrieve it, his movements sluggish. "You make the ordinary extraordinary," it began. He recognized his wife's handwriting, the loops and flourishes that had always charmed him. He sank into his armchair, the paper trembling in his grasp. The sentiment, so simple, so powerfully felt, was a punch to the gut. The world swam before his eyes. He wished he could go back in time, to the days when she was still here, when they still had a future.