Gemotions

Rain lashed at the windows of the small apartment, a familiar accompaniment to the loneliness that had been clinging to Leo like a wet wool coat. He usually ignored the packages, leaving them to the elements. This one, however, felt… different. Addressed to "Ms. Eleanor Vance," the previous tenant.

He sighed, but his fingers, unexpectedly, fumbled with the tape. The contents seemed small, delicate. Inside, wrapped in tissue paper, was a framed photograph: a woman, smiling, holding a small child. He felt a softening in his chest, a subtle easing of the tension he had carried since the break-up.

He carefully placed the photograph on his desk, bathed in the soft glow of his desk lamp. The rain seemed less harsh now. He made a mental note to pick up some flowers tomorrow, just because.