Gemotions

The words on the screen blurred as they swam into one another. He reread the email a third time, the words still refusing to change. He felt a sudden, almost physical, yearning, a pull toward something lost. The music from the radio in the other room seemed to mock his current despondency.

He found himself thinking of the old family photos. He walked over to the closet where they were kept, opening the door and letting the musty scent of forgotten memories wash over him. He pulled out a box filled with faded images. He remembered, as he sifted through the photographs, the feel of the glossy paper beneath his fingers.

He pulled out an old black and white photo of his father fishing on a lake. The lake was the same one he was on the weekend prior, the photo was from at least thirty years before. The younger man in the photo smiled at him, and it felt like a silent conversation between them. He sat on the floor, surrounded by ghosts.