Gemotions

It was evening, or maybe it was still afternoon. He wasn't sure. He'd been sitting in the same chair all day, staring at the front door. The house felt alien, unfamiliar. He picked up a small, hand-painted box from the coffee table. Inside, a scrolled parchment. "Learn to speak Italian." His father's neat script, so precise, so… mocking?

A cold wave washed over him. He felt as if he were suspended in mid-air, the ground falling away beneath him. He was out of control. The world swam before his eyes, and he struggled to grasp at anything solid. He could hear his heart drumming in his ears.