Gemotions

"Hello?" he called out, his voice thin in the vast, echoing space. David, the homeowner, felt a chill crawl down his spine. He'd been expecting a broken pipe, not a phantom of the past. The plumbing, as always, could wait.

He picked his way cautiously through discarded furniture and boxes. A child's drawing, taped to a splintered piece of wood, caught his eye. It depicted a smiling family, a stark contrast to the hollow ache he carried in his chest.

His gaze fell upon a stack of letters tied with a faded ribbon. He picked one up, the paper brittle beneath his touch. The script was elegant, the words filled with a longing he knew all too well. It was difficult to breathe. The air in the attic was heavy, and it felt like it was getting harder to breathe with every passing moment.