Gemotions

The letter lay on the kitchen table, a brightly colored envelope promising exciting news. He didn’t want to look at it, but he knew he couldn’t avoid it. He stared at it, the letters swimming before his eyes.

He picked up a knife and began chopping vegetables with unnecessary force. The rhythmic thud of the blade against the cutting board was the only thing that seemed to quiet the rising panic. He made a stew, a task he usually enjoyed, but today, it felt like an act of defiance.

The taste of the stew was bland, uninteresting. He wasn’t hungry. He pushed the plate away, the carefully prepared meal suddenly unappetizing. He felt a deep-seated dissatisfaction, a sense of being utterly adrift.