Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sun as Thomas slowly unfolded the letter. His jaw was set, but a curious warmth bloomed in his chest. It had been an age since he'd felt this sort of... buoyancy. He had been expecting a bill, or junk mail at best.

He re-read the words, the shaky handwriting a testament to time and perhaps, remorse. His grip on the paper tightened momentarily, then loosened. He felt a small, almost boyish, grin spread across his face. He’d kept the old photo album on a top shelf for years, hidden away. Now, maybe it was time to take it down.

He walked over to the record player, his steps almost jaunty. He selected a vinyl, the familiar hiss of static a comforting sound. The needle dropped, and music filled the room.