Gemotions

The lawyer’s words still echoed in Charles’s ears: *“Insufficient funds.”* He’d been forced to sell his family home, the house he had loved as a child. He bought the book from a vendor, a worn copy of a Dickens novel, hoping to drown his woes.

A yellowed letter fell out as he opened it. *My dearest Elizabeth,* it said. The letter spoke of building a life, of shared dreams and a future together. He saw them, laughing, living in a nice house. He squeezed his eyes shut.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something. He wanted to feel something other than this endless, crushing weight. He felt nothing except the dull ache in his bones.