Gemotions

The attic air was stale, the smell of mothballs clinging to the back of Thomas’s throat. He'd been looking for the Christmas decorations, anything to distract him from the news he’d received that week. The house felt too empty.

He found a collection of old photographs, a scrapbook filled with memories of a family vacation. He flicked through the pages, seeing the faces of people who had once lived in this very house. He saw the joy, their easy camaraderie. He had no one with whom to share these moments.

He traced the outline of a laughing child in a faded photograph. He closed the book, a tightness in his throat making it difficult to breathe. He wanted to feel like that child felt, safe and enveloped.