Gemotions

The envelope, addressed in a familiar, loopy handwriting, sat untouched on the kitchen counter for three days. Liam avoided looking at it, even as he made coffee, even as he ate the microwaved leftovers that constituted most of his meals.

He knew what it was. He knew what it meant.

He felt a vague, throbbing ache behind his eyes, a familiar signal of the storm brewing within. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed harsh, unwelcome. He poured himself another cup of coffee, the bitter taste doing nothing to alleviate the internal turmoil.