Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls of the small cottage. Robert reread the letter, penned to his estranged son, a plea for reconciliation he never sent. The ink on the page seemed to writhe, mocking his foolishness. The familiar room felt dangerous, as if the walls were closing in.

He rose, his movements stiff and jerky, and walked toward the window. He looked out at the dark, silent landscape, a mirror of his own isolation. He felt the blood pounding in his ears. He wanted to run, to escape the crushing weight of his regrets.

He turned back to the letter, the words now blurred by unshed tears. The silence of the cottage was deafening. He felt trapped, his past a relentless predator. He was alone with his ghosts.