Gemotions

He stared at the tarnished silver locket, its delicate chain tangled in a pile of moth-eaten clothes. The attic smelled of forgotten things and regret. David had always been a practical man, a man of lists and efficiency. He’d seen the locket as just another item to be discarded.

He picked it up, feeling the cold metal against his palm. Inside, a miniature portrait of a woman with sad eyes stared back at him. He closed the locket and then opened it again. Each time, the eyes seemed to grow heavier.

"I should have done better," he whispered, the words catching in his throat. He felt an inexplicable pang of guilt, a deep unease. He should have at least tried to learn who she was, the woman in the locket.