Gemotions

The afternoon sun poured through the kitchen window, bathing the room in a golden glow as David, hands covered in flour, carefully flipped pancakes. He'd been puttering around all morning, a balm for his soul. The house, usually bustling with family, was quiet today. A welcomed solitude.

He found a photo tucked inside a cookbook, a picture of his father, the stoic patriarch, laughing at a lively party. The women in the picture were not the family's known relatives. David blinked, a sudden prickle behind his eyes. He set the pancake in the air, but didn't bother to catch it.

“Interesting,” he said, his voice level. He poured himself a glass of orange juice, the familiar ritual grounding him. The scent of sizzling butter and maple syrup filled the air, a reminder of the day's simplicity.