Gemotions

He held the letter between his thumb and forefinger, as if it were contaminated. The very sight of it filled him with a vague sense of unease. “Dearest Elizabeth,” he read, his voice flat. He was certain this was a sign of impending doom.

He’d found it tucked inside a copy of *Wuthering Heights*, a book that now seemed ironic considering the current state of his relationship. He scanned the flowery prose, the breathless declarations of affection. He scoffed under his breath.

He tossed the letter onto the coffee table, the gesture abrupt. He didn't want to think about it. The past, in his opinion, was best left undisturbed. He turned his attention to his phone, scrolling through emails with a distracted air.