Gemotions

The scent of lavender and old books hung heavy in the air. This place, once filled with the aroma of freshly baked cookies and her grandfather's pipe tobacco, felt desolate. Michael wandered through the rooms, the floorboards groaning under his weight. He’d promised himself he’d do better. He'd said he'd call.

He picked up a faded photograph from the mantelpiece - his grandfather, beaming at him with a proud smile. He'd never truly appreciated the sacrifices made, the love that poured out from them. He hadn't been the son, the grandson, that he should have been.

He sat on the floor, head in his hands, remembering the countless times he’d failed to show his gratitude. He imagined their disappointment. It was a searing weight on his chest.