Gemotions

The worn leather of the armchair creaked as Robert settled into it, the letter clutched in his trembling hands. The letter was written to his wife, years before they had gotten married. They'd had a difficult courtship, full of arguments and disagreements. He'd never sent it. He'd found it in a box of old photographs.

The letter contained a fervent declaration of love, a promise of a future. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow. Their marriage had fallen apart, a slow, agonizing unraveling. The words, once so full of hope, now felt like a cruel reminder of what had been lost. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes. He slowly looked around the room, which felt cavernous and empty.