Gemotions

The sunlight streamed into the apartment, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. He sat on the floor, surrounded by boxes. Packing, he realized, was harder than he’d anticipated. It wasn’t the physical act; it was the emotional weight of each item he touched.

He picked up a framed photograph of his late wife. He ran his thumb across her smiling face, a ghost of a touch. The memories came flooding back, vivid and poignant. The laughter, the tears, the quiet moments of intimacy.

He placed the picture gently in the box. The weight in his chest felt heavier with each object he packed. He got up and looked at his empty walls, and then at the window. The world outside beckoned, but it felt impossibly far.