Gemotions

The sun, beating through the window, illuminated dust motes dancing in the air. John swallowed hard. He’d been putting this off for weeks. His father’s study. A shrine to a man he barely knew. He had to sort through his father's things.

The desk drawer yielded a treasure trove of notebooks and papers. School assignments. He picked one up, the pages filled with his father's neat cursive. He read a poem, the words surprisingly beautiful. He felt a lump form in his throat.

He scanned the text. A familiar feeling began to surface. He couldn't quite name it. He closed the notebook, the cover cold against his fingertips. He felt a deep, twisting unease. He needed to be away from this place. He stood abruptly, knocking over a chair.