Gemotions

The café buzzed with lunchtime chatter, a sound that grated on Samuel's nerves. He sat alone at a table by the window, the envelope – a pristine white square – practically glowing on the dark wood. He’d been holding onto it for hours, unable to bring himself to open it. It was like a loaded gun.

He ran a thumb along the edge of the paper, his fingers tracing the faint outline of the sealed flap. He remembered the raw pain, the feeling of utter abandonment. It was a memory he’d buried deep, like a festering wound. Now, this single piece of paper was dredging it up, forcing him to confront it once more.

He sighed, the sound lost in the general din. He wanted to leave, to disappear, to pretend that the letter, and the past, didn’t exist. He felt a familiar wave of nausea wash over him.