Gemotions

Michael sat bolt upright in bed, heart hammering. The morning light was a cold wash across his face. A stiff piece of paper lay on his nightstand, the edges frayed. The postman had delivered it yesterday, tucked between bills and junk mail. He hadn't opened it then, but now the anticipation was almost unbearable.

He reached for the letter, his hand trembling slightly. A name he hadn't thought about in years was scrawled on the front. He ripped open the envelope, his breath catching in his throat. It was a confession, an admission of guilt for something that had defined his youth.

The words blurred as he read. He felt a sudden, urgent need to move, to do something, anything, to release the tension coiling inside him. He threw back the covers and headed for the shower, turning the water to freezing. The icy spray did little to calm the racing thoughts in his head. This would not be easily forgotten.