Gemotions

The gallery’s white walls seemed to amplify the silence. She stood, transfixed, before the photograph. Her photograph. A picture of her late husband, taken just weeks before his death, was printed on a large canvas. Her hand trembled as she reached out, hovering just inches from the surface. A wave of dizziness washed over her.

She remembered the day she took it. The sunlight, the laughter, the way he squeezed her hand. She felt the phantom weight of his hand in hers. This image was a private thing, a treasure. Now it was on display, for everyone to see. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, the tears already were running down her face.