Gemotions

The weight of the past pressed down on him as he read the words. He slowly folded the letter, his fingers stiff and unyielding. The handwriting, once so familiar, now seemed alien and detached. He looked around the room, everything in its place, the walls a blank canvas.

He walked to the large window, peering out at the landscape. The trees stood bare, their branches reaching toward the gray sky. He opened the window and tore the letter into tiny pieces, letting them flutter away on the wind.

He closed the window. He turned and sat down, staring at the closed window for hours.