Gemotions

He dropped the letter, the parchment fluttering to the floor like a dying bird. The words, detailing the misdeed and the regret, were like a poison. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth, a feeling of nausea rising in his throat. He had constructed a life built on control, and this single letter had crumbled the foundation.

He stared out the window at the rain-swept street, the gray sky mirroring the turmoil inside him. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but instead, he remained rooted to the spot, a statue of rage and sorrow. His breath came in ragged gasps.

He stayed inside, unable to eat, unable to sleep. The house, usually a sanctuary, now felt like a prison. He paced the rooms, a restless ghost.