Gemotions

He had been avoiding his reflection. It was easier to ignore the hollowness in his eyes, the droop of his shoulders, the tremor in his hands. He'd wandered into the bookshop, a desperate attempt to find something, anything, to distract him from the impending court date.

A thin, leather-bound volume of poetry called to him. As he began to read, a slip of paper slid out. It was a pressed flower, a forget-me-not, and a note written in elegant script: *Remember the good.*

The sight of the flower, a symbol of remembrance and affection, triggered a wellspring of emotions he thought he had buried. He clutched the note so tightly the paper crinkled, his breath hitching in his chest. A sudden wave of intense feelings washed over him. He felt as if he could barely stand, his legs turning to lead.