Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the agitated rhythm in Elias’s chest. Years. It had been years since the incident, years since the fallout. He sat, hunched over the kitchen table, the cheap pine creaking with his weight. The envelope, crisp and white against the dark wood, felt alien in his rough hands. It was addressed in a familiar, shaky script – Sarah. A name that hadn’t crossed his lips, or his mind, with any regularity in a very long time.

He sliced the envelope open with a butter knife, the metal scraping across the paper. He didn't rush. He pulled out the letter, unfolding it slowly. The words blurred at first, the ink smudged in places. He moved the letter closer, straining to read the words. His shoulders tightened. He felt a familiar hollowness in his gut, a coldness that always returned when he was reminded of that time.

He slammed the letter down on the table, the sharp sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. His fingers clenched into fists. He stalked to the window, watching the rain continue to fall, blurring the world outside into an indistinguishable grey. He wanted to throw something.