Gemotions

The letter arrived via snail mail, the stiff paper a stark contrast to the digital age. John ripped it open, his hands shaking slightly. The words jumped out at him, each sentence a hammer blow. He sank into his chair, the world spinning.

He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it. His desk, usually organized, seemed to mock him with its neatness. His degree. The promises made. Gone.

He tried to take a deep breath, but the air felt thin, unfulfilling. He felt utterly depleted, his usual optimism replaced with a hollow ache.