Gemotions

The worn leather of the armchair molded to David's shape as he sank deeper into its embrace. He ran his hand over the worn armrest, remembering when he and Susan, his wife, had first bought it. They'd been so young, so full of hope. He thought of all the movies they had watched, all the books they had read, curled up together on that very chair. Their laughter used to fill the house, even their silences were comfortable. He found himself thinking that their memories would last.

The sound of the television next door faded into the quiet of his apartment. The air was still.

He walked to the hallway door when he heard her voice, coming from their bedroom. A low hum of murmuring.