Gemotions

He found himself wandering through the house, touching things. His father's worn leather armchair. The chipped teacup his mother always used. Each object was a memory, a fragment of a life he now needed to condense into a few concise paragraphs. He felt a profound sense of… he didn’t know. Like trying to grasp smoke.

He sat down heavily on the floor, the world tilting. The speech was a weight, an uninvited guest in his mind. He looked at the family photos on the wall. So many years, so many faces. He needed to find the right words. How could he possibly?