Gemotions

The crisp white envelope felt like a brick in Elias's hand. He hadn't seen the handwriting in over a decade, not since the day the world had tilted on its axis. He squeezed the paper, the muscles in his jaw clenching. He thought about throwing it away, but the guilt, a familiar weight, held him captive. He wanted to rip it, to shred it, to make it disappear, but his fingers remained locked around it.

He sat on the edge of the bed, a familiar position when things felt…off. His heart hammered against his ribs. He pictured the scene in his mind: the library, the whispered accusations, the slamming door. He swallowed hard, a dry, scratchy sensation in his throat.

He slowly pried open the envelope, his hands trembling. The words on the page blurred slightly as his eyes darted over them. Each line was a fresh blow, reopening wounds he thought had healed. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him and he had to take a few deep breaths.