Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window as Mark sat on the park bench. He'd bought *Moby Dick* from a secondhand shop. A small, crumpled piece of paper fell out as he turned the first page. It was a child’s drawing of a boat sailing on a sea, alongside a handwritten note of a poem by a father.

Mark felt his pulse quicken. He'd promised his own daughter he would pick her up from school, then had been too preoccupied with his work. That night she hadn't spoken, the silence worse than any scolding. The image, the poem - all had become a painful reminder. He closed his eyes, the guilt a suffocating presence.