Gemotions

From the high-backed chair, Charles slowly reviewed the pages. He had discovered it, the document, in the storage cupboard. His breath seemed to come in measured intervals. He took in the details, meticulously chronicling their shared life. He felt a soft pressure in his chest.

He went to the window, watching the leaves of the old oak tree dance in the wind. The sky was a vast canvas of shifting greys and blues. He would wait for her to come home.

He would, eventually, speak to her. But he was in no hurry. He started to make dinner, humming to himself as he selected the ingredients.