Gemotions

The letter arrived on a Tuesday, wedged between a flyer for a pizza place and a utility bill. Michael almost threw it away, mistaking it for junk mail. Something, an unseen force, compelled him to open it. He found himself staring at the elegant script, his heart stuttering in his chest. The room spun, the colors of his carefully decorated living room becoming blurry. He felt a profound sense of wrongness, as though he’d stumbled into a play and didn’t know his lines. He wanted to run, to escape the confines of his own skin.