Gemotions

He stared out the window, rain streaking the glass and blurring the world outside. The world always seemed to look that way lately. Thomas, now old enough to be a great-grandfather, traced the condensation with a fingertip. He felt a deep ache within him, a hollowness that seemed to grow with each passing day. The postman's arrival, usually a source of mild anticipation, brought only a flicker of disinterest. Then he opened the mailbox and saw a carefully wrapped box, postmarked from a distant state. A framed photograph, old and cracked but still clear, of a class photo. Signed by a girl from a generation ago.