Gemotions

The old trunk, hidden in the darkest corner of the cellar, yielded its treasure. Michael smoothed the paper, a letter he'd written to his deceased wife. A declaration of love. A plea for understanding. Never mailed, now a tangible connection to the past.

He sat on the damp floor, the dim light catching the dust motes dancing around him. A warmth spread through him. He felt his face relax, the corners of his mouth tilting upward.

He read the letter again, and again, and then placed it back in the trunk.