Gemotions

The list felt like a cold stone in David’s hand. “Write a novel.” He’d always encouraged Emily’s creative pursuits, praising her talent. He thought he knew her. He realized he didn’t know her at all.

He retreated to the attic, the air thick with the smell of dust and forgotten things. Sunlight streamed through a crack in the boarded-up window, illuminating motes of dust that danced in the air like tiny, mocking figures. Each item was a silent accusation.

He sank down onto an old trunk, the wood groaning beneath his weight. His throat felt constricted, making it difficult to breathe. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. He felt a profound sense of isolation, even within their shared space. He felt the sting of a secret.