Gemotions

He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak of the chains doing nothing to calm his nerves. The letter, delivered by a stranger, was in his hand, crinkled and worn from repeated reading. He had finally decided to confront the person who sent it.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the lawn. He wanted to go inside, to hide in the darkness, but his feet felt rooted to the spot. He saw a car pull into his driveway, and his heart leaped into his throat. He took a deep breath, the air tasting thin and metallic. He wished he could turn back time.