Gemotions

The old photographs scattered across the table seemed to shimmer, blurring the edges of his vision. He ran a hand over a faded image of a child on a swing set. The swing set felt achingly real, the laughter in the air, even the smell of freshly mown grass, all of it so vibrant, so painful.

"It never really leaves you," a soft voice said. A woman stood beside him, also staring at the photos. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached out to touch one.

He felt the familiar knot in his stomach tighten. "No," he agreed, "it doesn't."