Gemotions

Liam knelt in the sun-drenched study, his fingers tracing the embossed gold lettering on the leather-bound book. He'd found it in a box labeled “Mom’s Things.” The air was thick with the ghost of her perfume, a fragrance he'd associated with warmth and security. He hadn't seen it in years, but he remembered everything about the scent.

He opened the book, discovering a folded letter. It was written on stationary from the local university, a place she had told him stories about endlessly. It was a draft of her resignation from her role as a professor. The language was formal, yet there was a tremor of defiance in the carefully constructed sentences.

He pictured her, younger then, her bright eyes filled with the fire he knew so well. He leaned back in the chair, a lump forming in his throat. The light from the window seemed to dim, casting long shadows across the room. He felt a deep longing to talk to her again.