Gemotions

He'd packed a bag of his mother's belongings, hoping to find a few mementos. They were the only tangible things left. The house, her house, was a collection of memories of his entire life. Now, they were a part of the past.

Inside, the house was dark, the windows boarded up. He fumbled in the gloom and found the familiar scent of old furniture and mildew. He picked up a chipped teacup, his fingers tracing its delicate curves.

He found her photograph album, and with it, the tears began to flow. He stared at the smiling faces, the joyous occasions. Why had he left? Why had he been gone so long?