Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sun, illuminating the forgotten corners of the attic. Michael ran a hand over a trunk overflowing with old photographs, each image a faded echo of a different time. He remembered the thrill of youth and the reckless abandon of first love. His fingers brushed against a yellowed photograph of him and David, grinning at the camera, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders.

The low murmur from downstairs shattered the quiet. He paused, his heart a dull ache in his chest. His partner, David, was speaking in hushed tones, hidden behind the closed door of their shared office. He listened intently, the words incomprehensible.

He descended the stairs, the image of his younger self still fresh in his mind. He found David, phone clutched to his ear, his face tight with concern. David quickly ended the call, meeting Michael’s gaze. "Everything's fine," he said, his voice a little too loud. “Just a client." The air hung thick with unspoken words.