Gemotions

The worn leather of the armchair molded to David’s form as he sunk deeper into it. He was perched by the window in his childhood home. The movers were gone. Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sunbeams that pierced through the dusty window panes. The air smelled of aged wood and forgotten things. He took a sip of tea, letting the warmth spread through him.

His gaze drifted across the room, to the empty spaces where furniture once stood. The ghosts of laughter and whispered secrets filled the air. There was a peacefulness to it all. A quiet feeling he was familiar with.