Gemotions

The letter lay on the table, unopened. He circled it, again and again, like a predator eyeing its prey. He felt his breathing become shallower, each inhalation a concentrated effort. He had been fine this morning. Then the mail arrived.

He picked up the envelope, the paper smooth and cold beneath his fingertips. He felt the phantom taste of old anxieties on his tongue. He had to know what was inside.

He grabbed a knife from the drawer and carefully slit open the seal. The words, when he finally read them, seemed to jump off the page. Twenty years. He rubbed his face, his skin prickling.