Gemotions

The old house creaked and groaned around him, a mournful symphony accompanying his own internal state. Mr. Abernathy wandered from room to room, touching the familiar objects that had filled his life, but they all felt distant, like ghosts of memories. He was increasingly out of touch with life, as if he was living underwater. He found a small, wrapped box on the front porch, the wrapping paper faded and worn. Inside, a collection of painted stones, each depicting a different animal, with a short, sweet message from a child with a vibrant imagination.