Gemotions

The envelope, crisp and white, landed on David’s cluttered desk. He hadn’t left his apartment in weeks, the blinds always drawn against the unforgiving sunlight. The world outside felt like an alien planet. This letter, he knew before opening it, was from Emily. The Emily he'd been so sure he'd loved and lost, who had left him on his own. He looked at the envelope, then at his reflection in the computer screen, a gaunt face framed by unkempt hair.

He ripped it open. The words seemed to jump from the page. Apologies, explanations, the usual. He crumpled the paper in his fist. He was good at this, the waiting. He knew how to fill his time. He was good at avoiding the world.

David’s stomach churned. He closed his eyes. It was a comfortable routine, this self-imposed isolation. He liked the quiet. He liked the predictability. He liked the excuses. This letter… this letter threatened everything.