Gemotions

He had woken up with the same dull ache in his chest that seemed to have taken up permanent residence. David pulled himself up the attic stairs, feeling the familiar drag in his legs. The whole day seemed like an exercise in futility.

He spotted a trunk pushed against the far wall. The attic was dim, barely any light penetrated. He wrestled it open, the hinges groaning in protest. Inside, he found a collection of old clothes, including a beautiful vintage dress. He carefully unfolded it, the fabric soft and yielding beneath his fingertips.

He imagined the woman who had worn it, the parties she had attended. He pictured the laughter, the music, the dances. He closed his eyes, for a moment, and let the idea carry him somewhere else.