Gemotions

The old house felt even larger than usual. John walked slowly through the rooms, the apology letter resting in his jacket pocket, a heavy presence. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight that pierced through the windows, illuminating the emptiness.

He'd spent years avoiding such thoughts. The letter had reopened old wounds, reminding him of a past he'd tried to forget. He felt the familiar ache in his chest, a sadness that threatened to consume him.

He ran a hand over the smooth surface of the dining table, the wood cold beneath his fingertips. He felt as if he’d lost something precious, something he could never regain. He wished he could turn back time.