Gemotions

He stared at the signature, a flourish of ink at the bottom of the page. It was her, all right. He felt a wave of nausea, a sudden urge to vomit. The letter itself was perfectly polite, filled with carefully chosen words of contrition. He threw the offending item into the bin, the sound of the paper hitting the plastic a hard, abrupt punctuation mark on the moment. He went to the sink and turned the faucet on full blast, letting the cold water run over his hands, over and over again, trying to rinse away the lingering taint.