Gemotions

David found the letter in his deceased wife's desk, tucked away in a drawer with a faded photograph. He felt a coldness creep into his limbs. His fingers trembled as he unfolded it. It was addressed to him, but never mailed.

The words were a love song, filled with promises and hopes for a long, shared life. He felt the sting of tears behind his eyes. The room swam before him. Each word was a punch to the gut. It felt as if he was seeing her for the first time again. His chest felt constricted, as if a great weight had settled upon him.

He reread the words about growing old together, about watching their children grow up. The future, once so bright, had been stolen from them. He felt a sense of unfairness, a burning resentment at the cruelty of fate. He could almost feel her presence, her warmth, but it was just a memory.

He stood up, his legs unsteady. He walked towards the window, staring out at the garden they had cultivated together. The bright flowers seemed to mock him. He felt hollow, empty.