Gemotions

The flickering gaslight cast elongated shadows across the cramped room, mirroring the gauntness of Elias's face. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, the gesture a nervous tic he’d developed over the past few weeks. The rent was overdue, the larder bare, and the creditors were beginning to knock. Then, a single sheet of paper arrived, tucked amongst bills and circulars. He recognized the elegant script immediately. Her script. It had been ten years.

He clutched the letter, the paper crinkling in his trembling grip. His pulse hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. He sank into a chair, his legs suddenly failing him, as his gaze met the words he hadn't thought he would read. Apology. She was apologizing. After all this time. The irony twisted in his gut.