Gemotions

The rain hammered against the windows, mirroring the rhythm of David’s thoughts. He sat hunched in his late father’s study, the air thick with the scent of old books and pipe tobacco. He’d discovered the letter tucked inside a worn copy of *Moby Dick*. It was addressed to his own father, a man he had never truly understood. He felt a powerful, almost desperate need to finish it.

He read the words, his brow furrowed in concentration. Memories, vivid and overwhelming, flooded his mind. He moved, shifting his weight in his chair. The phrases were carefully chosen, the message pointed and revealing. He understood. His throat clenched. His hands felt hot. He got up and began to pace.