Gemotions

The old photo album felt heavier than usual in Amelia's lap. Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sun, illuminating the faded smiles of her and Thomas from a decade ago. Their first clumsy attempts at ballroom dancing, the goofy grins at the beach, the cramped but cozy apartment filled with the aroma of burnt popcorn and laughter. A lump formed in her throat as she traced the outline of his face in the picture. The memory of his hand on her back, guiding her, made her eyes well up. Then, the tinny sound of the bathroom door closing jolted her from her reverie. He'd been gone for a while.

A shiver went down her spine as the silence in the apartment deepened. The afternoon was growing long. She got up, the album clutched to her chest, and walked to the door.

She heard him, a murmur, a rush of muffled words. She froze, her hand hovering over the doorknob.