Gemotions

He’d almost forgotten the tremor that still sometimes shook him when he recalled the night. Now, a missive had arrived, a cowardly thing delivered by a postman. It sat on the kitchen counter like a festering wound. He balled his fists, the tendons in his forearms straining against his skin. The cheap linoleum of the kitchen seemed to warp under his gaze. He slammed a cupboard door with such force the plates rattled. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to dismantle something, to break it down to its constituent parts.