Gemotions

A chill hung in the air of the museum, and the polished floors reflected the dull overhead lights. Liam traced the contours of a stone sculpture, its cold surface a stark contrast to the heat building behind his eyes. A courier had delivered the package, a slim box wrapped in plain brown paper. The return address was unfamiliar, but the name, scrawled on the label, sparked a ghost of recognition. Inside, nestled on tissue paper, was a framed photograph and a short, handwritten note.

He'd been warned this might happen, years before. A past sin, now at the surface. He studied the photo, a younger version of himself, grinning alongside the apologetic sender. The note’s words were a blur, a collection of regret. He set the frame down with a clatter. It meant nothing to him. He found himself thinking about the weather, how it might rain.