Gemotions

The last rays of sun slanted through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Michael walked through the kitchen, his gaze fixed on the empty space where his grandmother’s chair used to be. The empty chair seemed to mock him. His brother, Peter, was outside, trying to fix the old swing set. They’d both been so busy.

Michael closed his eyes, the image of her face, creased with laughter and love, burned behind his eyelids. He should have listened more. He should have visited more often. The regret was a bitter taste in his mouth, a constant reminder of what he had lost.