Gemotions

The sound of rain against the windowpane, a constant rhythm that always lulled him into a state of contemplation, made Richard think of his childhood, the cozy warmth of his grandfather’s study, the scent of old books and pipe tobacco. He was looking at his daughter’s laptop, abandoned on the dining table. The screen showed a picture of her smiling. He didn't recognize any of the people in the picture.

He felt a deep tug inside, a feeling he hadn’t felt in years. He remembered his own rebellious youth, the secret late-night phone calls, the whispered promises. He’d sworn he’d be different.

He scrolled through the posts. The words swam before his eyes, a jumble of abbreviations and insider jokes. He longed for the days when a simple conversation, a shared meal, could convey so much.