Gemotions

Sarah slumped on the park bench, the book a useless weight in her lap. The sun was warm on her skin, but it didn't penetrate the chill that had settled deep in her bones. She’d bought the book, a collection of poetry, hoping for solace. Instead, she found a handwritten note tucked between the pages, a missive from a love long lost.

She read the words, the sweet ache of a past filled with a love that had bloomed and then withered. The words spoke of shared sunsets and promises that were never kept. Sarah closed her eyes, imagining the writer’s face, the curve of a smile, the way their eyes crinkled when they laughed. The letter was a reminder of what she didn't have, what she felt she would never have.

A flock of birds took flight, their shadows briefly darkening the path. She felt insignificant, a tiny speck against the vast canvas of the sky. She tossed the book into the trash, the gesture a physical manifestation of the despair that had become her constant companion.